
Book r^ 

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CORfRIGHT DEPOSnV 








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OIAAAMj 



POEMS 
AND TRANSLATIONS 



BY 



FREDERIC ROWLAND MARVIN 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1914 






MOY -s-im 



copteight, 1914 
Shermak, Frexch <^ Company 






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TO 
MY DEAR WIFE 

IN WHOSE PURE LOVE AND NOBLE COMPANIONSHIP 

I HAVE FOUND GLADNESS OF LIFE 

AND INSPIRATION FOR LABOR 

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK 



PUBLISHERS' NOTE 

This edition of Dr. Marvin's " Poems and 
Translations " includes three separate books, pub- 
lished at different times, together with a few later 
metrical compositions. " Flowers of Song from 
Many Lands," being short poems and detached 
verses gathered from various languages, and ren- 
dered into English, is contained in this edition. 
It first appeared in 190^. One thousand copies 
were printed, of which sixty-three contained a 
portrait of the author on parchment, and were 
numbered. The book is now out of print, the 
entire very limited edition having been sold some 
time ago. " A Book of Quatrains " is also here 
included. It was first published in 1909, but 
has since been revised and enlarged. Most of the 
original poems in this edition appeared in 1907, 
but they have since then been revised and rear- 
ranged. 



Goy little hooJc, 

And be to other men 

What thou hast been to me — 

Communion, fellomship, and hope! 

Say to other men: 

" In these brief lines 

A living man was housed. 

And here he breathed desire and faith; 

Not such as schools and chapels teach. 

But such as God approves.** 

Go, little book. 

And rest your heart 

Against some heart to me unknown. 

And cry: " Hail, brother! Evermore to you 

Glad fellowship, and kindly love. 

And pleasant journey home! " 



CONTENTS 

POEMS PAGE 

The Hospital Nurse 1 

Sweet Company 4 

Ether 4 

The Master's Violin 5 

Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus 7 

At an Inn 7 

Brahma's Cup 8 

The Soul 9 

Isis 10 

The Secret Knowledge 11 

The Downward Gaze 12 

Hafiz 13 

Lilies for Rosalie 14 

Reverie 15 

My Earthly Love 16 

To a Bird 18 

The Heart of Nature 19 

The Open Door .23 

Infinite Presence 23 

Love .24 

The Holy Child 25 

Madonna 27 

To One About to Die 28 

Fame 29 

Berktj:y Churchyard 30 

The Lion of Lucerne 39 

At the Tomb of Senancoue ........ 40 



CONTENTS 

PAOK 

The Far Horizon 42 

OxLY A Word 46 

The Vivisector 47 

The Rule of Life 50 

Fate . 51 

At the Lord's Table 52 

How to Remain Youxg 52 

Descent of the Spirit 53 

The Hero 54 

The Immortal Gods 55 

Comradeship 56 

Distrust 56 

Lines 57 

Worship 59 

A Modern Preacher 59 

Church of the Holy Furbelows 60 

Theological Experts 65 

Quiet Power 66 

The Test of Love 67 

Everlasting Trifles 67 

Love's Metempsychosis 68 

I Remember 69 

Cleopatra's Mummy 71 

ViRGiLii Carmina 74 

Reciprocity 75 

Kindness 76 

Couplets 76 

The Later Faith 77 

Modern Spiritualism 79 

Purity 79 

To William H. Hopkins, D.D 80 

Trust 81 

Prayer for Strength 82 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

God 83 

He is the Same to Me 83 

Hymn 84 

Judas 85 

Burial Hill 86 

Fichte's Grave 87 

One 89 

Somewhere 89 

Lines Written Upon a Skull 90 

"Dust to Dust" 90 

On the Removal of the Remains of Calderon . . 91 

Common Sense 91 

The Secret of the Stars 92 

Age 93 

A Wayside Flower . 95 

The Flower of Sleep 95 

Pimento 96 

*'SiGH NOT A Vanished Past" 100 

Forgiveness 101 

The Daisy 101 

The Safest Creed 102 

Auf Wiedersehen 102 

QUATRAINS 

Shelley 107 

Heine 107 

Junius 107 

Toplady and Wesley 107 

Thoreau 108 

Helen 108 

Books 108 

Poetry 108 

Literature 109 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Political Leaders . . . .109 

Bondage 109 

Dangerous Weakness 109 

Experience 110 

Age 110 

A Loud Call 110 

Cured HO 

"Haste Makes Waste" HI 

War HI 

Love HI 

Inconstancy HI 

Agnostics 112 

Cremation H^ 

Transfusion H^ 

Sixty 112 

Christian Science H3 

How TO Escape Doubt 113 

Too Late 113 

Popular Government 113 

Value 114 

Castles in Spain 114 

Life and Death 114 

Albany 114 

The Larger Knowledge 115 

Heresy 115 

The Unknowable H5 

Equity H5 

Men Fear the Truth 116 

Early Training H6 

Chance H6 

Materialism H^ 

"You CANNOT Make a Silver Cup from a Pewter 
Pot" 117 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Alfieri's Tomb 117 

The Divine Doubt 117 

Assurance 118 

Compounding for Sins we are Inclined to . , . 118 

The Fool's Success 118 

Transcendentalism , . 119 

Aspiration 119 

The Evening of the Lord's Day ". 119 

Beyond the Harbor Bar 119 

The Universal Mother 120 

Truth 120 

Here and Now 120 

Passion 120 

The Uselessness of Wrangling 121 

A Selfish Heart t. 121 

Life 121 

Lawyer-Politicians 121 

"How do Cherries Taste?'' 122 

The Inner Worship 122 

Why? 122 

Church and State 122 

The Best Creed 123 

Driftwood 123 

Preaching versus Practice 123 

Cricket on the Hearth 123 

The Hour 124 

Friendship 124 

Choice 124 

To A Plagiarist 124 

Procrastination 125 

Peace at Last 125 

Dr. Girth 125 

A Difference in Name 125 



CONTENTS 

PAOE 

Modern Eden 126 

Wine 126 

Tobacco ......... 126 

Hateful Love , . . . . 126 

Epitaphs 127 

Freedom 128 

The Candle of the Lord 128 

Hope 128 

Youth and Age 128 

The Holy Land 129 

The New Moment 129 

At Last 129 

Leze Majesty 129 

The Democratic Jackass 130 

Recruits 130 

Right Better than Peace 130 

Meeting of the Free-Religious Association . . . 131 

Opium 131 

The American Chauffeur 131 

Protection 132 

Distance Lends Enchantment 132 

Politicians 132 

The Nihilist 132 

Like Cures Like 133 

Recantation 133 

Vain Search 133 

Truth or Repose 133 

Once 134 

The True Brother 134 

Popular Romance 134 

Spring 134 

Peace 135 

Life and Death 135 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Society 135 

The Hall of Fame 135 

Ax Hoxorary Degree 136 

Mid-life 136 

"My Life is Wind" 136 

Youth Attractive 136 

Self-conceit 137 

The Land of Labor Strikes 137 

A New England Housewife 137 

Which? 138 

Everywhere is Peace 138 

The One Far Ending 138 

LATER POEMS 

Threnodia 141 

Henley 144 

America 145 

Wild Rose 147 

To James B. Kenyon 148 

Venus Lamia 149 

Freedom 149 

FLOWERS OF SONG FROM MANY LANDS 

Translations from Goethe 

I The Song of the Spirit over the Waters . 155 
II The Spirit's Salute 156 

III The Mason's Lodge 157 

IV Calm at Sea 158 

V The Eagle and the Dove 159 

VI Two Threats 161 

VII Miracle 161 

VIII When Two Men Quarrel 161 

IX The Error we Clasp to our Heart . . .162 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

X COMPAXIOXSHIP 162 

XI Each Likes Best the Place Wherein He 

Lb'es 162 

XII The Boundaries of Humanity .... 163 

XIII The Soldier's Solace 164 

XIV To a Metaphysician 165 

XV The Unequal Marriage 165 

XVI Apparent Death 165 

XVII The Golden Age 166 

XVIII Anacheon's Grave 166 

XIX The Favored Beasts 167 

The Iliad 168 

The Fountain or Youth 168 

Lily and Rose 168 

Sings the Bee Unto Her Son 169 

The Blind Passenger 170 

The Palji 170 

Some to Holy Mary Kneel 171 

When Thou Hast Wedded 171 

Humanity 172 

On Dr. Mead 173 

PIymn 174 

The Evening Hour 176 

Human Life 176 

German Courage 177 

Hymn of Contrition 178 

How to Become a Saint 179 

Renunciation 179 

Distaste for Life 179 

To My Physician 180 

Remembrance ..••• 181 

Spiritual Epigrams • > • • . 182 

The Cost of Prosecution 184 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Adieu 184 

Woman's Sword 184 

Frekch Proverb • . , . 185 

Faith . 185 

The Hopelessness of Folly 185 

The Last Words of Rabelais 185 

The Whistling Daughter 186 

Epitaph on Agnes Sorel 187 

The Happy Man 187 

The Ass and the Flute 188 

A Reveler in the Inn of Life 189 

Song of the Wandering Knight 190 

Spanish Proverbs 191 

The Divine Plan 191 

Divine Mercy 191 

On Michael Angelo's Statue of Night .... 192 

To A False Lady 193 

The Only Place of Rest 194 

Christmas Carol 195 

The Cardinals 196 

Immortal Youth 196 

The Life of Man is as the Dust 197 

Misguided Charity 197 

Turkish Proverb 198 

On a Fly Engraved in a Golden Drinking Cup . 193 
On Holbein's Half-Length Portrait of Erasmus . 198 

The Priest and the Thief 199 

Transubstantiation 199 

Bonefonii Basium XXIV 200 

Balaam's Ass 200 

Foolish Words 200 

Ad Ministrum 201 

Socrates 301 



CONTENTS 

Epioeams from Martial page 

I Impromptu Verses 202 

II To AviTus 202 

III To Africanus 202 

IV To Pella 203 

V The Cook 203 

VI On Some Sculptured Fish 203 

VII An Insect in Amber 204 

VIII To Ponticus 204 

IX To ^rnitianus 204 

X On Fabullus 205 

XI On Quintus 205 

A Lover's Wish 206 

The Best Country 206 

An Oracle of the Pythian Priestess .... 206 

Lines 207 

The Noblest Gift 207 

Mortality 207 

Cures fob Love 208 

A. Greek Epitaph 208 

Epitaph for Timon, the Misanthrope .... 209 

Earth to Earth 209 

The Flight of Time 209 

The Uselessness of Labor 210 

The Gift of the Muses 210 

Aphrodite 210 

E\t:ry Man for Himself 211 

Love in Old Age 211 

Plato's Epitaph 211 

After the Feast 212 

Epitaph for the Sibyl Herophile 212 

Greek Epigram 212 

The White Cows to Marcus C^sar 313 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Homeric Couplet 213 

On Those Who Fell at Thermopylae 213 

Greek Epitaphs 214 

Lais Dedicates Her Mirror to Vekus 214 

True Riches 215 

Under a Winged Cupid 215 

The Deadly Presence 215 

The Common Doom 216 

Inscription Over a Temple 216 

To a Murderer 216 

Diogenes 216 

Conscience 217 

Aristophanes 217 

Envy- 217 

Counsel 217 

Equality in the Grave 218 

The Miser's Grief 218 

The Tyrian Landscape 218 

Riches Acquired in Old Age 219 

The Stupid Brahmin 220 

Sanscrit Couplets 221 

The True Gift 222 

The Present Heaven 222 

The Appointed Hour 222 

The Helpful Drug 223 

The Creation of Sex 223 

Sunrise 224 

The Unity of Faith 224 

The Brahjun's Delight 224 

The Prayer of a Persian 225 

The House of God 225 

Persian Couplets 226 

Envy Pursues the Fruitful 227 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

What Need of Sacred House? ....... 227 

Fame 228 

The Choice of Friends 228 

The Summary of the Law 229 

The End of Tyranny 229 

The Divine Demand .230 

Majnun's Love 230 

The Supreme Emancipation 230 

The Saint's Reply 231 

Intoxication 231 

Truth and Lies 231 

Hymn to a Star . 232 

Much in Little 233 

Gain Strength by Helping Others 233 

Al Cawthar 233 

Fruitless Endeavors 234 

The Prayer of a Raider 234 

Translations from the Arabic 

I DrviNE Contemplation 235 

II The True Counselor 235 

III "Let not the Man Who Sows Thorns 

Walk Barefoot" 235 

IV The Fool's Flight 236 

V The Penitent Thief 236 

VI True Generosity 236 

VII Scant Hospitality 236 

VIII The Unhallowed Dead 237 

IX The Coquette 237 

X The Envious Camel 237 

XI All the Same at Last 238 

XII Who Hath Much Can Resign the Little 238 

XIII Decehtid by Appearances 238 

XIV Pilgrimage 239 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XV Stolen Glances 239 

XVI What Comes of Quarreling 239 

XVII Mind Your Own Business 240 

XVIII Fertile of Resources 240 

XIX The Right Road 240 

Translations from the Hebrew 

I "Glittering Crowns Deceive" .... 241 

II Secrecy 241 

III The Bible 241 

IV The Wisdom of a Childlike Spirit . . . 242 
V The Three Friends 242 

VI Modest Worth Rewarded 242 

A Royal Epitaph 243 

The Book of Pymander 244 

Confession 244 

A Happy Lot 245 

The Mission of Sorrow 245 

The Words of the Wise are Few 245 

Inscription on the Bathing Tub of K'ang . . . 246 

Chinese Couplet 246 

Chinese Couplet 246 

A Prayer for the King . 246 

Creation and Trial of Man 248 

A Mother's Lament for Her Drowned Son , , 249 
The Human Sacrifice ,,,,,,,,, 2^0 



POEMS 



THE HOSPITAL NURSE 

" How shall I know when I am dead? " 
The fever-stricken patient cried ; 

Whispered the nurse : " I cannot say, 
For I have neither lived nor died. 

" How can I live and nurse the dead? 

How die, and with the living go? 
So long I've wrought a single task, 

I nothing else can think or know. 

" From ward to ward I glide and glide, 
And breathe the ether-tainted air; 

My heart is dull, mine ears are filled 

With sob, and curse, and wildered prayer. 

" The surgeon's knife is keen and true, 
The doctor's drugs are bitter quite; 

And round and round forever swing, 
In equal darkness, day and night. 

" Ah me ! that God should make this world, 
If any God in heaven there be ; 

Can He not feel His creatures' wocf* 
Is He so blind He cannot see? 
1 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



" Last night a wounded man they brought ; 

The mangled flesh they cut away; 
He scarcely breathed; his failing pulse 

Ceased, and he died with opening day. 

*' Long by his lifeless form I stood ; 

I saw them lift the helpless clay; 
The same old duties called me then, — 

Some wound to dress, some throat to spray. 

" Let say who will that God is good ; — 

I doubt there is a God at all ; 
But if there be in heaven or hell, 

He cannot hear us when we call. 

" I come and go, and do my work, 
With kindly thought and kindly deed; 

One word alone, 'tis only Help, 

Makes all the substance of my creed. 

" But it is earthly Help, and lo. 

It falls not from the heavens above; 

It dwells within the human heart. 
And all its blessed name is Love. 

*' I have been down to hear them pray 
Within the chapel on the street; 

All through the service rich and strong 
I seemed to hear the word Defeat. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



" A silken robe the preacher wore ; 

His alb and chasuble were fine; 
And in his face there was a look 

Of dainty meat and costly wine. 

" He was no bishop, yet he had 

The pride and pomp that bishops wear; 
Smug satisfaction oiled his throat, 

But lifted not my load of care. 

" And as I left the House of Creed, 
A beggar hobbled by the door; 

In him I saw the groaning world, 
And I could never worship more. 

" I have one duty, only one — 

To serve with heart, and hand, and brain 
The race He loved who meekly bore 

A Golgotha of shame and pain. 

" Dear Christ, whom earthly priests deride, 
And gilded churches mock with prayer, 

My human heart looks up to Thee, 
And longs Thy blessed work to share. 

" And if there be no God above. 

Nor any God on land or sea, 
I am content to call Thee Lord, 

And for Thy love to worship Thee." 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



SWEET COMPANY 

Death is lonely — always so ; 
Unattended, man must go. 
Said the sage of long ago: 
" Wisdom 'tis one's self to know." 
Wiser wisdom 'tis to be 
To thyself sweet company. 
Therefore learn, dear heart, to be 
To thyself sweet company. 



ETHER 

Pure air the soul demands. 

And cloudless light: 

Who to himself can say 

Bravely, "Thou must!" 

Austere compulsion turns 

To sweet delight; 

He breathes the mountain air 

Of duty loved, 

Nobly obeyed. 

O'er all the crystal sphere, 

Radiant above him springs 

From the rude earth below. 

Heaven's dome of blue. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE MASTER'S VIOLIN 

" Nicolaus Amatus Cremonem Hieronymi Fil, a c 
Antoni j Nepos fecit, 1677." 

N1C01.0 Amati^ was my father; and first the 
light of day upon my vision dawned in that bright 
vale of beauty, radiant with star-gemmed flowers, 
fragrant with Lombard roses, and golden with 
ripe corn, where winds the silver Po to lone Fer- 
rara's crumbling dome and towers of marble, sea- 
ward gazing from the salt and sluggish waters of 
Comacchio's unfrequented bay. 

In beautiful Cremona was my home ; and there, 
'neath soft Italian skies, with wild delight gay 
lovers oft my swift responsive strings have swept. 
When sweet Remembrance sings, ancestral names 
reply. As murmurs oft the purple shell its echo 
of the wave, touched with pain, dim faces 
through a mist of tears intently gaze, and once 
again caressing hands the trembling strings con- 
trol. Gentle with love my cradle was, and rich 
my noble heritage. 

1 Nicolo Amati, son of Girolamo Amati, was born De- 
cember 3, 1596, and died April 13, 1684, aged eighty-eight, 
according to the registers of Cremona Cathedral. An- 
tonio Stradivarius, son of Alessandro Stradivarms, was 
born in 1644, and died in 1734. He and Nicolo Amati 
were apprentices in the same workshop in Cremona, Italy. 



6 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Stradivarius knew me well, who in the Lombard 
town fired every throbbing heart with glory and 
renown. He sleeps, but I awake to breathe his 
name. The summer winds above his tomb their 
music make, but sweeter are the songs he loved, 
and I remember well. 

Behold where deftly wrought the master's hand 
in faultless curves and scrolls, rare arabesque, 
nameless flowers in margarite, Florentine mar- 
quetry that time improves and renders still more 
fair! Into the beauty that his hand with won- 
drous skill had shaped, himself the master 
breathed, and I a living soul became. Throbs in 
me, with longing, passionate desire no art may 
satisfy, his lifeblood evermore. He made me not 
for common song and I'ude caress who gave me 
sky, and sun, and twinkling stars, and morning- 
red in ruddy gold, and mellowing tints of purple 
flecked with foam and spray from Adriatic wave. 
In me aspires the soul of man divine, for mine is 
voice articulate of human gladness and despair. 
All thoughts and passions of the soul are mine. 
Enough! Behold, three hundred years forever 
flown, his name immortal still impressed I bear, 
who dowered me with the dream and wonder of the 
world. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



MARCUS AURELIUS AND EPICTETUS 

Twin stars, serene and pure, 

In the fear-haunted gloom 

Of the wild pagan night, — 

So long, so long ago! 

In royal purple one. 

Philosopher and saint, 

With words divinely wise; 

The other but a slave, 

Yet monarch still who iniled 

The godlike minds of men. 

Alone, undimmed, they burned 

Above a world of doom 

Until the morning-red 

Flamed crimson in the east. 

And the ascending dawn 

Of an immortal Christ 

Filled the blue heavens with light. 



AT AN INN 

If I should die in this poor inn, 
God shrive me of my every sin. 
The slipshod landlord hath his pay 
For this hard bed whereon I lay ; 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



My soul's worst case heaven's Lord hath 

ta'en, — 
Mine is the guilt, and His the pain: 
So, undisturbed, I'll rest the night, 
To rise with birds at morning light, 
When man and horse shall fare away 
With jocund laugh, heart light and gay. 



BRAHMA'S CUP 

I LIFT the cup of Brahma high ! — 
The cup and liquor both are his ; 

That flowing draught is perfect rest, 
For Brahma's self the liquor is. 

Let endless kalpas still revolve. 

Who quaffs, no grief shall e'er befall ; 

For he shall dream the dream of God, 
And never know he dreams at all. 

My transmigrating days are o'er; 

God's hand presents the sacred cup; 
I eager grasp the chalice now. 

And drink the Godhead's liquor up. 

And while the sacred wine I quaff. 
Two souls are mingled on the brim ; 

I drink of Brahma in the cup. 
And he receives me into him. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE SOUL 

Kat dvOpdtTTov ye ^vxv, ciTrep ti Kal &Wo ruiv Avdpcairlvuv, 
Tov deiov fierexei. — Xekophok. 

The Soul is its own destiny : 

Fate is the Soul in motion: 

It hath nor bound of space nor time; 

It is the Infinite. 

Duration that doth mock all measurement 

Becometh conscious — is the everlasting Soul. 

Time is a cunning fancy ; 

The immortal gods 

Have wrought the subtle fabric of the hours 

To blind the Soul that looketh out 

On its immensity. 

But all in vain: 

The introverted vision gazes on infinity; 

Alone, supreme, the Soul forever dwells. 

Empires have birth, they do decay and die; 

Advancing years, like phantoms, 

Sweep forever down the abyss of time 

And slumber on the bosom of Forgetfulness. 

Forever falls the sand ; the glass is never empty, 

Fed from the running fingers of Eternity. 

The sands are ages : 

Forever weep the Klepsydrae; 

Their tears the universal grief express, 

And drop into the bosom of Eternity. 

But what are empires and the endless years 



10 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Unto the Soul that holdeth all! 

Behold the infinite, far-shining, everlasting 

Soul — 
Behold the Human Soul! 



ISIS 

I am all that has been, all that is and shall ever be: no 
mortal has lifted the veil from my face. — Inschiption 
rpox THE Temple at Sais. 

I WAS e'er ancient time began — 
The stars are young, but I am old ; 

The circling ages come and go, 

And I the heaven and earth enfold. 



I am, and in my heart I clasp 

The priceless treasures of the sea; 

I spread the desert-sand abroad. 
And bade the sacred Nile-stream be. 



I shall abide when stars are gray. 

And age hath dimmed their wonted glow; 

No mortal lifts the veil I wear, 
And none my hidden glory know. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 11 



THE SECRET KNOWLEDGE 

Of that ineffable essence which we call Spirit, he who 
thinks most will say least.— Emerson. 

I HAVE seen God, 
Yet what He is 
I may not say, 
Lest when you think, 
And when you pray, 
What He is not 
He should appear. 
Was He begot 
Of our rude speech.? 
Nay, but to each 
He is more dear. 

Forever streams 
His presence bright 
In varied hues. 
Reflected well 
In many souls; 
But who can tell 
What sweet delight 
To each is given.'' 

I may not preach, 
You may not hear; 
There is no rule. 
Austere command, 
Or stem decree 



12 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Of any school, 
Or creed to teach. 
No inward strife 
Can bring Him near. 

Why should you ask 
Of Him or His? 
Why seek to know 
His plan for thee? 
Will thou His will, 
And go thy way. 



THE DOWNWARD GAZE 

Behol,d the earth, if thou wouldst see 
The smile creative of the Lord ; 

And, speechless, hearken to her voice. 

If thou wouldst hear the heavenly word. 

The downward gaze is upward still, 
The inward silence sacred song: 

The heart that waits in love for God 
Shall know He never tarries long. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS IS 



HAFIZ 

Wine, wine, sweet wine, 
Rich blood divine 
Of purple vine, 
With glowing fire 
My soul inspire. 
And tune my lyre! 

« Hafiz is dead," 
The maidens said, 
*' Drowned in the red 
Wine-wave. Alas ! 
Who shall surpass. 
On the green grass 
Or the blue sea, 
Hafiz the free?" 

In sweet surprise, 
From the clear skies 
Of Zara's eyes 
A shining dart 
Pierced Hafiz's heart. 

From the red wave 
She thought his grave, 
With deathless song, 
Clear, sweet, and strong. 
Sprang Persia's lyre 
Of mingled fire 
And sweet desire. 



14 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



" Wine, wine for me, 
Hafiz the free! 
And when I die. 
My soul shall fly 
From love's alarms 
To Zara's arms." 



LILIES FOR ROSALIE 
(song) 

Raise your heads, ye virgin lilies — 

Lilies white, so chaste and free I 
Bend no more with artless grace. 
Mirrored in the water's face - — 
You shall live with Rosalie. 

Lift your stems of shining silver; 

Open wide your leaves to me ; 
You shall live, and never fade, 
When you're with the fairest maid — 

On the breast of Rosalie. 

Lilies, hear you what I'm saying? 

Fadeless glories ye shall be; 
Careful, then, lest wavelets drift you; 
Stooping low, I gently lift you — 

You shall live with Rosalie. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 15 



REVERIE 

All around me, everywhere, 
Through the dreamy world of air — 
Underneath me, overhead. 
Like the shadows of the dead. 
Float the endless mysteries. 

Through the russet autumn leaves, 
Where the purple twilight weaves 
Wondrous webs of light and shade, 
Silent cities rise and fade — 
Cities without histories. 

Through the tangle and the brake, 
Till they meet the silver lake, 
Run the merry mountain streams, 
Fall like ever-fading dreams 
In the ocean of the night. 

O'er the mountain, through the glen, 
And the city filled with men. 
Float the navies of the air. 
Drop their anchors everywhere 
Through the silent depths of light. 

Underneath them waves of sound 
With strange melody resound; 



16 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



On their decks the sailors sing, 
Keeping time with everything 
On the earth and in the air. 

And within me, like a voice, 
Something bids my soul rejoice. 
Saying: '* Seek not to explain 
Where thy search must be in vain ; 
Lo ! thy dream shall be thy prayer.' 



MY EARTHLY LOVE 

No dim and dreamy ghost I sing. 

Nor phantom floating in the air; 
To one who treads the solid earth 

I send alike my song and prayer. 
To perfect matter strong and sweet, 

The face and form of her I love ; 
The matchless speech and subtle breath, 

And eyelid trembling like a dove, — 
A dove within an earthly nest. 

Who hears the coming of her mate. 
Or feels his kiss upon her breast, 

And chides him that he comes so late. 

The matchless joy of sense I sing — 
The earthly j oy of here and now ! 

Before no fading ghost I kneel, 
Before no distant future bow. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 17 



Go, little song, and seek the lips 

Of her who waits thee with a kiss, 
And tell her, only in her arms 

Thy poet-master dreams of bliss. 
No angel seen by prophet eye. 

Nor shaped by art with peerless grace. 
With feet that tread the azure sky 

And roam the boundless field of space, 
Is half so true or sweetly fair 

As one who walks with me apart : 
I lose me in her shining hair, — 

She is the goddess of my heart. 

O Death, so like a stormy cloud 

Within a gentle summer sky, 
Thou lonely phantom sad to see, 

I will not fear thee though I die! 
Go, little song, to her I love, 

And tell her Death is in the air; 
It is his shadow on the world 

That makes the present moment fair. 
We have one hour of life and love. 

And ages filled with silent sleep ; 
There is no time for Faith to pray. 

Nor time for sullen Grief to weep. 
Go, tell her if we love not now. 

The life we live is only death 
And dust, that have no joy in time, 

And only feed on bitter breath. 



18 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



TO A BIRD 

Bird upon the leafy tree-top, 

'Mid the bending buds of Spring, 

With the golden sunlight painted 
Strangely on thy folded wing, 

With the blue of heaven entwined 
Round thy soft and slender throat, 

Trembling like a thing affrighted, 
With each sweet and gentle note — 

Bird of beauty, free and happy, 
Singing all the glad day long, 

Is there aught of wrong or sorrow 
In thy world of flowers and song? 

Are there dreams of years departed, 
Hopes that come not back again ; 

Are there loves that fade and darken — 
Joys that vanish into pain? 

Tell me if the same sweet music 

Makes thee happy all thy way, 

If no night of pain or sorrow 

Mar the blessedness of day. 
• • • • • 

Not a word to me thou speakest 
Though I patient wait, and long ; 

Still with trembling throat thou singest, 
While I listen to thy song. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 19 



THE HEART OF NATURE 

DIPPING wing of swallow, skimming the dark 
pool ! I stretch me on the soft green turf edging 
with creeping tendril and abundant moss the 
sleeping water, and I watch and wait. 

Around me flame the scarlet poppies, and drop 
on banks of yellow-hearted daisies and bright 
clover blossoms, the red thimbleberries. 

From out the cloudy West comes with wet wing 
from summer showers, the evening breeze, cool 
and refreshing. 

Radiant, the flying clouds reflect the glory of 
the swiftly westering sun ; and all along the misty 
hilltops bum the twilight fires. 

Night descends, and lo! a thousand stars in 
silent wonder gaze, reflected in the shadow- 
haunted pool. 

Entranced, I linger. From branch and twig, 
through the encircling forest, call voices wild and 
free. I strain the ear to listen. For me those 
voices ! Now I know the marvelous secret of the 
woods — what the fringed gentian dreams, and 
the sad-faced cypress whispers to the night 
breeze and to golden oriole perched aloft upon 
yon hard, resisting cone. I am one with Nature 



20 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



— her child ! O'er me, in gentle, reassuring con- 
solation, evermore she broods. 

No more for me the marble splendor of the 
crowded city, with gilded domes rising, thole on 
thole, vaulted, to the smoky sky with dust and 
flaky soot obscured. 

No more for me the painted temples their 
mocking spires to empty heavens uplift o'er 
carved and stately altars whence have forever 
flown those sweet, fallacious hopes, delusive 
dreams, and visions dim with age that haunt the 
restless soul of man. 

The grandeur and magnificence of courts, all 
princely retinue, and faultless works of art de- 
light me not. Louvre and Vatican are compen- 
sation vain indeed for more enduring and 
inspiring achievements of a loftier genius, 
wrought in earth, and air, and flood. 

With you, ye forests, through the years that 
still remain I would find shelter and a home. 

The slumber of the hills and all the noble glad- 
ness of free life delight me well. Nor are the 
less attractive forms of Nature alien to the heart 
that would find peace and pure delight in worthy 
fellowship and sweet communion with the vast, 
pervading Spirit that inhabits all. 

I love the tangled everglades and broad bayous 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 21 



that dream forever in the soft, voluptuous air of 
the warm, musky South; but not less do I rejoice 
in lonely solitudes where slip through tufts of 
coarse red pampas grass, lithe, glittering ser- 
pents, with pliant, curling fangs in deadly juices 
dipt ; and in the sluggish waters, steaming up from 
burning sands, through flower-bright shallows, 
and miry swamps where booming bitterns wade 
and splash. These have cruel splendor, and a 
charm that stirs the flagging heart and kindles in 
the failing pulse new fire. 

Snow-crowned, the rocky heights their flinty 
arches spring o'er vast, eternal chasms where 
slumber in their solitude the dim primordial shad- 
ows, and, rising tier on tier, against the stars 
their massy fronts repose, Iris-hued, in swirling 
tides plunges Niagara in foam and thunder 
through encircling rainbows wrought in wreaths 
of mist. Aloft on silver wave the vast expanse 
of ocean bears palm-tufted reefs of coral and low 
tropic Isles. O'er naked limb and twig the feath- 
ery snows in northern woods lie deep. The 
meadow brooks that erst, with daisy fringed and 
buttercup, their winding ways through flowery 
meads pursued, are changed, and In a thousand 
glittering crystals the weird prismatic splendors 
of a frozen sky reflect. What world on world of 
wonder and surprise ! On every side arise visions 
of beauty that nor living voice, nor lettered art, 



22 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



nor glowing canvas whereupon to humbler minds 
immortal genius speaks, may to brooding fancy 
picture, or to duller thought disclose. 

Yet far beyond the mere delight of outward 
beauty remains the ministry sublime of inward 
peace that Nature hath for hearts despondent and 
for lonely souls. 

Nature, from out whose fruitful womb there 
sprang the larger fellowship of things inanimate, 
our mother is. 'Tis ours to share her bounty, or 
haply to endure what sorrow she with all her love 
may not assuage. To trust her guidance and to 
rest in her enfolding arms is more exalted wis- 
dom than the learning of our schools. 

He knew this well who reared by Walden Pond 
his simple hut; whose call the willing birds 
obeyed; whose lowly hearth the nimble squirrel 
sought. Nor trap, nor deadly gun the cunning 
fox alarmed ; long winter nights, o'er frozen earth 
or crusts of sparkling snow, unbidden, yet for- 
ever welcome, came the creature swift of foot, its 
generous friend to know. 

O peace and rest, and calm delight of hill and 
dale, of changing seasons, beast, and fish, and 
flying bird! The forests call, and Ocean with 
her voice of thunder bids the Soul of Man go 
free. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 28 



THE OPEN DOOR 

See, little bird, 

I open wide 
The door for thee ; 

Thou mayest glide 
On waving wing, 

And gladly sing. 
And everywhere 
In the sweet air 

Of freedom dwell. 

I, too, little bird. 

Would scape my cage; 
Would fly abroad 

Ere frosty age 
Hath chilled my breath, 

And dimmed mine eye. 
And naught but death. 

In field and sky, 
Awaits my song. 



INFINITE PRESENCE 

Alike Thou art in stillness and in storm ; 
In gentle winds that woo the evening star. 
And welcome the descending gloom of night 
With song of forests and the sounding sea. 



24 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Thou art in flower and shrub ; the running brook ; 
The restful silence of the purple hills ; 
And in the lowly meadows where the kine 
Repose at noon beneath th' o'erhanging boughs 
Of oak and elm. Afar Thou art and near — 
In distant worlds, and in th' trembling dewdrop 
That on the blushing rose doth hang a jewel 
Fit for Paradise above — too pure for earth. 
Thou art in ev'ry thought that stirs the soul 
Of saint or sage; in every noble deed; 
In woman's love; and in the voices dear 
Of little children such as Jesus held 
In His pure arms, and pillowed on His breast. 
And this poor world is beautiful because, 
Though sin and shame have marred its grace, it 

knows 
The mighty Love that changes and transforms. 



LOVE 

Time was when Love was bright and fair, 
Had soft blue eyes and golden hair. 

Time was when Love had all his way. 
And made this great world glad and gay. 

Time was! What change hath come to men.'^ 
Is Love not strong and fair as then ? 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 25 



,THE HOLY CHILD 

In a manger Jesus lies, 

'Neath the cloudless Syrian skies; 

Angels from the world above 

Gaze in wonder and in love. 

In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 

Mary folds Him in her arms, 
And to sleep the infant charms 
With the music of her voice, 
While the angel host rejoice. 

In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 

Wise men from the East have come 
Gold the willing gift of some, 
And frankincense others give. 
Myrrh from where the magi live. 
In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 

Guided by a wondrous star. 
They have journeyed from afar; 
While the holy angels sing, 
They adore the new-born King. 
In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 



26 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Horned oxen stand around, 
All unconscious that the ground 
Where the magi bend the knee 
Evermore must holy be. 

In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 



Bethlehem's plains with music ring, 
While the blessed angels sing; 
And the shepherds haste to see 
What may mean their minstrelsy. 
In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest, 

Mary, Mother of our Lord, 
With Saint Joseph in accord, 
On the happy shepherds gaze, 
Join the magi in their praise. 

In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 



Very God of God was He 
Through the vast eternity; 
Now to earth at last has come 
For His holy martyrdom, 

(In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest.) 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 27 



Whom King David longed to see, 
And the prophets did agree, 
From our sins to set us free, 
Should be nailed unto the tree. 
In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 

Hallowed be His holy name, 

In the heaven and earth the same ! 

Son the Blessed Virgin bore ! 

Son of God forevermorel 

In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 

Glory! Glory evermore! 
Him angelic hosts adore, 
And to Him the church always 
Shall ascribe eternal praise. 

In the manger of my breast 
May the infant Saviour rest. 



MADONNA 

Bare was the breast that cradled Christ, 
Pierced for the great world's sake. 

She said : " If men forsake not sin, 
This wounded heart must break." 



28 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Then down from heaven a golden light 

In robes of music fell; 
A voice cried : " Thou art Queen of Heaven, 

But I am King of Hell." 

Seven silver flames her crown enclosed; 

Their pallid lights were shed 
Upon her face, to God upturned, 

Like starlight on the dead. 



TO ONE ABOUT TO DIE 

For thee Time weaves her silver thread 
Between the living and the dead. 

The tide of years runs smooth and still 
Through the sweet valley of God's will. 

The banks are scented far above 
With the white lilies of His love. 

And through the wind's triumphant song 
He bids thy passing soul be strong. 

I would not mar the perfect grace 
That God hath shed upon thy face 

With one sad word of song or prayer, — 
But leave thee, as He made thee, fair. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 29 



FAME 

In his vast gardens once an Oriental lord 

A stately palace reared in Ghazneh fair ; 
And that he might his royal father greatly please, 

He sought to make a splendid banquet there. 
But o'er the father's face a shade of sadness fell : 

" Dear son," spake he, " my wealthy subjects 
all 
Could with their gold a thousand pleasure struc- 
tures build; 

'Twere nobler far to heed the heavenly call, 
And for thy soul construct a temple of such fame 

As wealth and knowledge nevermore can give. 
Strive not ambition's gilded dream of power to 
grasp, 

But learn for more abiding fame to live." 

Long years ago Mohammed's palace fell. 

And o'er the plain its stones are scattered wide ; 

But still with fond delight the monarch's name is 
breathed, 
His deeds of valor and his fame abide. 

Learn thou, my soul, that more than sacred les- 
son well : 
Who lives for good achieved, his fame endures ; 
To all who serve their age, and love their fellow 
men. 
The holy Allah his reward insures. 



so POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



BERKLEY CHURCHYARD 

How still are all the dead, 
Each in his narrow bed ; 
None anxious vigil keep, 
But all are fast asleep ; 
On every brow is rest; 
Peace dwells in every breast. 
It is a great relief 
To know that neither grief, 
Nor any sad distress, 
Nor doubt, nor weariness, 
Their slumber shall disturb. 

Yonder the gray church tower 
The spreading elms embower; 
Its storied window looks 
Through ivy-mantled nooks 
To where the roses bloom 
O'er ruined wall and tomb. 
No more the walks are trod 
Where clover blossoms nod ; 
The yellow daisies bright, 
All rimmed with spotless white. 
In matchless beauty wave 
O'er crumbling stone and grave. 
The heavy velvet moss 
Obscures a marble cross, 
A funeral urn, and half 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS SI 



The quaint old epitaph 
Where years and years ago, 
When earth was white with snow 
And winter winds were rife, 
They brought the gentle wife 
And laid her down to rest, 
Hands folded on her breast. 
And on her sad, sweet face 
Such meek and holy grace 
The preacher scarce could say 
The prayer, but turned away 
And wept. The story yet 
We cannot quite forget, 
Though fifty years are flown 
Since on the sculptured stone 
The Scripture verse they placed. 
And her sweet name they traced. 

Yonder an old woodbine 
Fast to a lifeless pine 
Clings trembling in the wind. 
Whose bones are here enshrined 
Beneath its wealth of green? 
The flowers that bloom between 
The loosening joints of stone^ 
Have wholly overgrown 
The once familiar name, 
Long known to village fame. 
Here rests a rural bard; 



32 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



His lowly lot was hard, 
His vision drear and dun. 
Some poor applause he won 
In humble hearts and homes. 
No tooled and gilded tomes 
Contain his simple rhymes, 
Nor in far distant climes 
His rustic songs are sung, 
But here, when he was young, 
He wrote, and early died. 
The simple folk some pride 
In his rude work displayed. 
And o'er his grave they made 
This record carved in stone. 
A little volume bound 
In paper, once I found — 
'Twas all he left the world. 

Beneath a chestnut tree 
Yonder a tomb I see. 
Of costly marble wrought, 
From distant quarry brought. 
And reared with vulgar pride ; 
So strong it must abide 
When many years have flown. 
Well is the story known. 
Recorded not in stone. 
But all remembered still. 
His was the ruined mill 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS S3 



Whose bones lie here at rest ; 
And in that mill a chest 
Contained his hard-earned gold; 
Who 'twas the secret told 
Was never known. One night. 
By some strange oversight, 
Unlocked was left the door; 
We never knew much more, 
Only when morning broke, 

Dead on his floor of oak 
The wealthy miller lay. 
Who took the gold away 

A secret to this day 

Remains. Yet one dark night 

Some hand did boldly write 

Upon the snow-white shaft 

A rude remorseful draft 

Of a confession, made 

With purpose to evade 

Disclosure, yet express 

Contrition and distress. 

The cleansing snow and rain 

Have washed that mark of Cain 

From the fair stone away ; 

Remains not to betray 

The writer, one sad line. 

What memories cluster here ! — 
The smile of hope, the tear 



84 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Of sorrow and regret, 
And anxious thoughts that fret 
The inward soul of man. 
How brief Hfe's little span! 
How sweet life's golden day, 
That will not with us stay! 
And yet is death not sweet, 
A calm and cool retreat 
After the toil and heat, 
The weakness and defeat, 
Of our frail human lot? 
Once to the village came 
Whom many years of shame 
Had left rare beauty still; 
It was her last sad will 
That here her dust might lie 
Beneath her native sky. 
She would nor praise nor blame 
Should e'er engrave her name, 
Nor any mound be made 
To tell where they had laid. 
Beneath the quiet shade 
Of an o'erhanging bough, 
The fair dishonored brow 
That only longed for rest. 

How strange a thing is life — 
The wild, incessant strife 
Of passion and despair! 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 85 



Before we are aware, 

The day is flown for aye — 

So soon 'tis time to die. 

Death never yet forgot, 

In palace or in cot. 

In any time or place, 

One of our passing race. 

Before me stands the shaft 

Of one whose gentle craft 

It was to carve in wood ; 

In all the neighborhood 

Was known his wondrous skill. 

Now yonder daffodil 

Grows from the dust that wrought, 

The cunning brain that thought. 

Why was his life so brief? 

Ask thou the fallen leaf 

That lies before thee now 

Why from its parent bough. 

Ere came the winter day. 

So soon it fell away. 

Ask thou the withered flower 

That bloomed its little hour 

And at thy feet lies dead. 

No more its fragrance shed 

Upon the evening air^ 

Breathes softly everywhere 

The thought of summer fair. 

Death reigns forevermore; 



36 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



And yet we need not pore, 
In lonely doubt and grief, 
O'er fallen flower and leaf. 
Life hath its joy for all: 
The vine on yonder wall, 
Where spotted lizards crawl, 
And the glad robins call 
Gayly their feathered young, 
Has, all unnoticed, sprung 
From the dark earth below. 
The winter's frost and snow 
Gave it new strength to grow. 
Out of our griefs arise 
The things that most we prize. 
Life is too brief for tears. 
Too soon it disappears ; 
Nor should our foolish fears 
Make sad the flying years. 
From these let us arise 
To greet the morning skies, 
To welcome the bright noon. 
Or watch the silver moon 
Flood with its mellow light 
The erstwhile lonely night, — 
Lonely no more since we 
In earth and air and sea 
May use and beauty find. 
We may not leave behind 
Our grief, and yet behold ! 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 37 



From it there may unfold, 
As from the bud a flower, 
Some rich and golden hour. 

Back from the wars there came 
A soldier — read his name, 
Unknown to larger fame, 
On these rude, broken stones 
That like his crumbling bones 
Themselves are crumbling now. 
The heavy lilacs bow 
Until they touch the ground 
In the low sunken mound 
Where the gray squirrels hide. 
'Tis said he was a scout; 
From battle oft without 
A single wound he came; 
Yet, such is human fame! 
His grave is left alone. 
With weed and vine o'ergrown. 
And here I muse a while 
Beside this ruined pile, 
And dream of that bright day 
When war shall pass away, 
The crime of battle cease, 
And universal peace 
Shall greater conquest know 
Than sword and gun can show. 



S8 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

With bowed and reverent head 

Above his dust I tread, 

Who, though men call him dead, 

Speaks to the list'ning ear 

To counsel and to cheer. 

Beside the soldier brave, 

In even humbler grave, 

The village pastor lies. 

Himself he put aside, 

To be the friend and guide 

Of lowly ones and meek; 

'Twas his their good to seek. 

Unlettered rustics heard 

From his pure lips the word 

Of warning or of praise; 

And all his useful days 

To quiet toil he gave, 

The erring soul to save. 

His holy life was bright 

With a diviner light 

Than earthly science knows. 

I pluck the clamb'ring rose 

Where he lies now at rest; 

Of all, his life was best. 

On this wild, fragrant flower, 

The child of sun and shower, 

Pressed in some cherished book, 

Oft will I musing look. 

The leaves, though faded, still 

Shall from themselves distil 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 39 



An odor rich and rare, 
Not for our earthly air, 
But for the inward sense. 
God grant when we go hence. 
Some kindly word or deed, 
Far more than rite or creed 
And more than worldly gain, 
To all may still remain — 
Our gift of love to men. 



THE LION OF LUCERNE 

With equal courage soldier and commander fell; 

Why were not all recorded name by name? 
The stone was ample, and the artist's skill was 
there 
To give them, great and small, to deathless 
fame. 



Alas, how meager is the gratitude we yield 
To humble men who royal service give ! 

We little care that silent worth unhonored die. 
If rank and title, crowned with glory, live. 



40 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

AT THE TOMB OF SENANCOUR ^ 

tterrdti, deviens mon afile! 

In Sevres before a tomb I stood and read, 

'Neath waving willow and an ilex there, 
The name of one whose aching heart breathed 
out 

With dying breath this last and bitter prayer : 
" Be thou, Eternity, my refuge ! " None 

Was there for thee but silence and the night: 
And as I mused, a bird flew swiftly by, 

God's sunlight flashing from its pinions bright* 

Of Obermann's enchanted page I thought, 

The story of thy lonely pilgrim days ; 
I pondered if Eternity at last 

Were welcome goal of thy sad, wand'ring ways. 
And as I mused, far up a leafy bough 

The bird sang sweetly of great love and hope ; 
The air was fragrant with the breath of flowers, — 

The wild red rose and purple heliotrope. 

1 fitienne Pivert de Senancour, author of " Obermann " 
and " MMitations Lihres d'un Solitaire Inconnu" was 
born in 1770. He followed the career of a man of letters, 
but met with little success. His writings were known to 
only a few choice spirits who were charmed by his elo- 
quence and by the deep yet tender melancholy of his 
thought and feeling. He died, a disappointed old man, in 
1846, requesting that over his grave might be inscribed the 
words; " Eternite^ deviens mon asile!" 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 41 



O Senancour, there is a refuge here 

For earthly sorrow and our wild unrest ! 
The hill, the forest, and the running brook 

Invite repose on Nature's soothing breast; 
And when our little selves we do forget 

In the bright world of beauty God hath made, 
Scant power hath human ill the heart to vex. 

Nor is there boding woe to make afraid. 

Far from the crowded city's wildering maze 

God meets us in the flight of singing birds ; 
His voice is in the winds and sounding sea, 

And in the lowing of the peaceful herds. 
The simple joys of rural life have grace 

To still the tumult of our care and doubt; 
From artificial thoughts our life allure. 

And those poor pleasures we might do with- 
out. 



This lesson from thy lonely tomb I learn. 

Thou gifted son of genius and despair: 
'Tis only when our sense of self we lose. 

As well we lose our burden and our care. 
All Nature thrills with music and with song 

When we have ears to catch the heavenly 
strain ; 
And when with love our hearts are warm and true, 

We know He made us not to live in vain. 



42 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

THE FAR HORIZON 



Swing low, thou silver moon! 

The rime and rune 

Of frost and snow. 

Of seas that flow, 

And winds that blow, 

Of weed and flower 

That sun and shower, 

Rejoicing, bring 

To every spring, 

Keep time and tune. 

A gentle mirth 

Fills all the earth ; 

O'er vale and height 

The quiet light 

Of heaven descends. 

Swing low, thou silver moon — 

Flood all the restful noon 

Of this sweet summer night 

With calm and holy light! 

Swing low! swing low! 

Swing low, thou silver moon ! 

On Nature's breast 

My heart, at rest. 

The music hears 

Of singing years. 

And laughing flowers; 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 43 



I watch the hours 

Unfold their wings; 

To meet the skies 

The mists arise 

Through all the day, 

In circles gray, 

O'er purple hills; 

The night comes down 

Upon the town; 

And o'er the sea 

The mystery 

Of created things 

A deeper darkness flings. 

Swing low, thou silver moon ! 

Swing low! swing low! 



II 



Swing low, thou silver moon ! 
Another sound is in the air, 
A cry of anguish and despair. 
Dark shadows fall, and everywhere 
The lonely graves on sea and land 
Rest not, but evermore demand 
To know the justice of man's fate: 
" Rules love, or only deathless hate? " 
War lifts her crimsoned sword on high. 
And at her feet the nations lie. 
Plague, famine, and disaster smite, 



44 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



And, in their wild and cruel might, 

Make sport of human hope and fear. 

The fruitless fields are brown and sere. 

The canker and the worm divide 

The glory of all earthly pride. 

The soul on dust and ashes fed, 

Wonders if God and love are dead. 

Did Heaven create the sword and flame? 

And plant th' accursed rose of shame 

In hearts that struggle with desire, — 

That would be pure, yet in the mire 

Of lust sink deeper day by day? 

Hears Christ the countless hosts that pray 

In all His temples far and near, 

With sigh and penitential tear — 

That pray, and for an answer wait. 

While none returns, though oft and late 

Their cry goes up to Heaven in vain? 

What shall be said of fearful pain? 

The house of slaughter, red with gore? 

The howl of anguish, the wild roar 

Of creatures desperate before 

The cruel vivisector's knife? 

What of the men who serve for life 

In dungeons far removed from hope? 

What of the hangman's gyves and rope? 

What shall be said of starving hosts 

That rot alive where England boasts 

Her gentle rule and gospel light? 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 45 



What of the golden parasite 
Of Godless wealth, the selfish gain 
That feeds upon the heart and brain? 
With lonely graves the earth is strewn ; 
The dead are dead; the living groan 
In anguish that no tongue can tell; 
And dark as fate, the fear of hell 
Looms black with doom to mock the grace 
That shone upon the holy face 
Of One a Roman cross held high 
'Twixt trembling earth and shud' ring sky. 
His love we owned; His word believed; 
Is God not good? Are we deceived? 
Swing low, swing low, thou silver moon! 
The earth and sky are out of tune. 



Ill 



Swing low, swing low, thou silver moon! 

Hope beckons with inviting hand; 

Not all man's trouble can withstand 

Her gentle smile of heavenly peace ; 

For every soul she hath surcease 

Of anguish and despair at last. 

We are not what we were of old, 

And when the story has been told 

Of all the ages, who shall say 

The flame that burned in our dull clay 

Was made to smolder and expire? 



46 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



New wisdom shall our race acquire; 
On every altar holier fire 
A nobler faith shall kindle there. 
Beyond the anguish and distress, 
The fears that all our hearts oppress, 
Beyond the wrong we may not right, 
I see the dawning of the light. 
The living Christ shall yet return; 
The eastern star again shall burn; 
Eternal love shall win the day. 
Swing low, swing low, thou silver moon! 
To all our race the richest boon 
Is not what we have been or are, 
But what awaits us from afar. 
Swing low ! swing low ! 
The future beckons, and we go! 



ONLY A WORD 

Only a flower that grew awhile 

By the dusty roadside there ; 
One thing, 'mid grime, and heat, and weeds. 

Fragrant, and fresh, and fair. 

One word, in all the fierce debate, 

Tender, and kind, and true; 
Dear word, my life is better now, 

And sweeter far for you. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 47 



THE VIVISECTOR 

He look'd so coarse and so red, 
I could think he was one of those who could break their 

jests on the dead, 
And mangle the living dog that had loved him and fawn'd 

at his knee — 
Drench'd with the hellish oorali — that ever such things 
could be! 

Tennyson: "In the Child's Hospital." 

Would I the vivisector's hand enclasp? May 
God forbid ! 
Let the red scoundrel go his way ; not mine 
To share his cruel life to shame and mercy doubly 
dead. 
The air I would not breathe he breathes; the 
wine 
Of hfe should be unmixed with gall. A heart of 
flint may be 
A thing to wonder at a while, but not 
To love and trust, though science and fair learn- 
ing yield their names 
To cover o'er the dark and damning blot 
Of his base deeds. With blood his hands are red, 
and more than foul 
From reeking filth of shambles where resound, 
From creatures misnamed dumb, despairing cries 
of agony — 
Vain cries for mercy: mercy is not found 



48 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Where men more like to fiends in hell, with ruth- 
less hearts perverse, 
Live, and delight them in the pain thej? 
give. 
May God on them the mercy they refuse bestow ! 
But I 
Must still remain too human to forgive. 

A little dog too gentle to defend itself from 
wrong, 
By years of kindness taught to trust, was 
rudely bound one day. 
A ruffian who himself " physician " called, the 
quivering nerves 
Dissected out with greedy knife, the blood all 
dripping down 
From his vile hands upon the sanded floor. The 
creature's howls 
Of agony he heeded not; the shameful lust of 
pain 
Was in his loveless soul; the joy of butchery 
inspired 
His icy bosom with the spirit of the ancient 
Cain, 
For he would have dissected out his brother's 
heart, could he 
Have won applause from men as vile and bru- 
tal as himself. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 49 



Around him wounded creatures lay; instruments 
of torture 
Covered all the slippery floor and the ensan- 
guined shelf. 
The air was heavy with the fetor of decay; a 
sense 
Of deepening horror darkly brooded all the 
place, as though 
The creatures, great and small, that he had cut 
or torn apart 
Had left him with their curse a nameless 
legacy of woe. 
Upon him by mere chance I came, but ne'er shall 
I forget 
The scene my vision met in shambles where he 
gladly wrought. 
And in the name of Holy Science, to his students 
round. 
With conscience seared and shameless, all the 
art of murder taught. 

Yet there be Christian men and women who his 
lie believe: 
" 'Tis for advance of Science and to help the 
Healing Art 
That countless beasts, and birds, and swimming 
creatures God hath made 
Must mangled be, and cut, and burned, and 
rudely torn apart." 



50 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Great God! have we not human hearts who 

boast a Christian name? 
Are we all dead to conscience and to every sense 

of shame? 
When we lift not our voices 'gainst so great a 

deed of wrong, 
The baseness is our own, to us the brutal crimes 

belong. 



THE RULE OF LIFE 

With Reason dwell in ever sweet delight, — 

A noble purpose in thy daily life 
To which, as turns the needle to the pole, 

Thou mov'st with neither haste nor eager strife. 
Seek not unfathomed mysteries to view, 

Nor let brief trifles stir thine inner mind; 
Desire not boundless wealth, nor knowledge vast ; 

Be not self-centered — to thy neighbor blind ; 
Waste no regret on what thou canst not change ; 

Let common joys supply a sane delight. 
Thus live, and peace shall be thy changeless 
friend ; 

Gladness shall fill thy day, and sleep thy night. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 61 

FATE 
I 

Cease your spinning, busy Fate ; 
I am weary with the weight 
And the sorrow of my state! 

Cut the silken thread in twain; 
Let the robe be made in vain 
That is woven from my pain. 

Let forgetfulness descend, 
Like the blessing of a friend, 
On the sorrow I would end. 



II 



Bending low, she gently said : 
" Nor the living nor the dead 
Are divided from my thread. 

" Only take the pain I send ; 
It shall teach thee like a friend 
To be faithful to the end: 

" It shall teach thee to be strong, 
Patient under nameless wrong, 
Turning discord into song." 



52 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



AT THE LORD'S TABLE 

Lord, at Thy table I remember Thee. 
Grant Thou Thy servant grace, that he may be 
At other tables sweetly mindful still 
Both of Thy love and of Thy holy will; 
Thus shall he bring to every hearth and home, 
In every land o'er which his feet may roam, 
A kindness, tender, gracious, and divine, — 
A richer food than earthly bread and wine. 



HOW TO REMAIN YOUNG 

Steive always to be calm; be cheerful and sleep 
well; 

Delight in music ; much with little children dwell ; 

With moderation eat; salute the opening day 

With glad " Good morning ! " be it rosy dawn or 
gray; 

Thy burdens bravely bear, yet make thou no de- 
lay 

To help a feeble brother all the rugged way ; 

Think not too much of self, nor idly fret and 
grieve 

That thou must all earth's wealth and beauty 
some day leave; 

Trust thou in God; and in the holy footsteps 
tread 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 53 



Of those who live forever, though men count them 

dead. 
Wise as the serpent, and yet harmless as the 

dove — 
Be thou like Christ in heavenly patience and in 

love. 



DESCENT OF THE SPIRIT 

Not till from fretful clamor rude we cease, 

And discontent, 
Shall th' blessed Spirit of eternal peace 

To us be sent. 

Th' transforming One, that out from chaos 
wrought 

A thing of life. 
Flies hence at sound of wild, discordant thought. 

And endless strife. 

In sacred hush of everlasting love 

And holy rest 
Descends the Spirit from the realms above 

To be our guest. 

Therefore, awhile in faith let us retire — 
Shut to the door — 

That with Himself He may our hearts inspire 
Forevermore. 



54 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE HERO 



Learn to endure 
With no weak cry 
The thrusts of Fate, 
Forever sure 
The gods are nigh, 
With hearts elate, 
When men are strong 
To do and dare. 

Not cHnging vine. 
But towering oak 
The gods delight. 
Who match their might 
With might divine, 
And fear no ill 
That Fate can do, 
The gods reward. 
The dauntless heart. 
Unyielding will, 
And vision clear, 
New life impart, — 
New joy inspire; 
While grief and fear 
Are man's defeat. 

Dry every tear; 
The future face; 
Let no disgrace 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 55 



Of base retreat 
The gods enrage. 
Meet every foe 
With blow for blow, 
And e'en the gods 
Themselves engage. 



THE IMMORTAL GODS 

The gods can't die, poor fellows, — 

Endless lives are theirs; 
On clouds they loll forever, 

And hearken to our prayers. 
They shake the heavens with thunder, 

With lightning part the sky, 
And curse the fate that made them, 

And will not let them die. 

The earth is green and tender. 

The ocean cool and deep; 
'Neath foamy waves and waves of grass 

We lay us down to sleep. 
The gods pursue with anger, 

From cloud to cloud they leap, 
But they can never find us 

When we are gone to sleep. 



56 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



COMRADESHIP 

Drifts a great sorrow like a lonely cloud, 

Drives hence the light, and darkens all the air ; 

But in the smile of one true-hearted friend 
Revives my courage and dissolves my care. 

Your helpful hand, good comrade, reach me now ; 

Once more the sound of your glad voice I 
hear: 
The vision clears ; my strength returns again ; 

And rosy morn illumes the land and mere. 

One trusted friend with loyal heart and free 
I hold a match for ruthless time and fate; 

A deathless fellowship of comrade-souls 

Is nobler wealth than this poor world's estate. 



DISTRUST 

As TURNED the enchantress Circe all her guests 
to swine, some native savage in his primal being 
winged the fatal shaft of self -distrust, and lodged 
the arrow-poison in his ^aelding mind. The 
man no more he played, but, all his courage gone, 
by fear dismayed, self-scourged, the shallow cow- 
ard sought oblivion and defeat. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 57 



With potent herb and golden wand the lovely 
Circe all her mischief wrought ; but we within our- 
selves the deadly bane distill, and of ourselves we 
die. 



LINES 

Written after reading Salt's " The Logic of Vegetarian- 
ism." 

No doubt I am a fool to eat 
Legs, tails, internal things, and feet, 
For he who' makes of flesh a feast 
Must come himself to be a beast. 

So good old Henry Salt believes ; 
He'd have us live on cabbage leaves. 
Fruits, nuts, and juicy twigs, and bark, 
Whatever grows in wood or park. 

Ah me! I am a sinner sure. 
With lips and stomach all impure. 
I've been by Christian cooks misled; 
Where shall I hide my guilty head.? 

Come, gentle browser on the sod. 
Lead my poor soul to peace and God; 
Henceforth this diet shall be mine: 
Sweet clover-head and dandelion. 



5S POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Yet I may drink a glass of wine — 
Why not? It is the fruit of vine. 
On good Kentucky whiskey too 
Old Salt has placed no hard taboo. 

Draw near and light the evening flame. 
Dear Salt be thanked ! there is no shame 
In sweet tobacco — 'tis a weed ; 
It cannot suffer pain and bleed. 

Havana Twists and Henry Clays 
Make fragrant all our nights and days. 
What more can any sinner ask 
Than sweet Perfectos and a flask.'' 

No more at Izaak Walton's feet 
I take the merry angler's seat; 
Unharmed through friendly stream and sky 
The fish may swim, the birds may fly. 

Nor gun nor hook shall bring them pain ; 
The Golden Age shall come again, — 
At least, so far as I'm concerned. 
The cruel heart that in me burned 

Has heard hypnotic words from Salt, 
And I've surrendered flesh for malt; 
Yet, on the whole, the truth to tell, 
I like the change in diet well. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 59 



WORSHIP 

FoEMs are dissolving, 

As shadows they fade; 

Best is the worship 

That seeks no reward; 

Devout the petition 

No answer attends ; 

More blessed is God 

Than the thing He bestows. 

Seek not and strive not; 

He waits at the door. 

Changeless, enduring. 

The spirit remains 

When the mold into fragments 

Is shattered at last. 



A MODERN PREACHER 

He is a preacher of the modern sort — 
One-third religious and two-thirds a sport — 
On Sunday preaching, best to fill the pews, 
A little gospel and more human views ; 
His sermons, spiced with lively '' storm and 

stress," 
Are well reported by the daily press. 



60 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



CHURCH OF THE HOLY FURBELOWS 

There was a preacher went to town 

To get a wealthy church; 
The country folk to whom he preached 

Had left him in the lurch. 

He was a blooming candidate 
With sermons by the score — 

Sermons to make you laugh and weep, 
And some to make you snore. 

He found at last a wealthy church 
Where sinners come to pray 

That all their sins may be forgiven, 
But never put away; 

Where ladies, clad in gorgeous robes, 
Sweep up the marble aisle; 

And Croesus comes to praise the Lord 
For his big golden pile. 

The elders are a saintly lot. 
As all the world doth know; 

There's Mr. Mammon, Mr. Pence, 
Old Usufruct, and Blow. 

The last of these, he cornered grain. 
And made the market wild; 

In yonder pew he kneels in pra^^er 
Just like a little child. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 61 



Three bankers and a senator 

Are in the session there : 
I wonder what they're thinking of — 

They seem engaged in prayer. 

The while I ponder on the scene 
Which every Sunday brings, 

I wonder is it church of God, 
Or of the money-kings. 

Old Mrs. Flumadiddle, too, 

Is every Sunday there; 
And by her side her daughter sits. 

So haughty and so fair. 

Her coachman dozes on the box 
While she's engaged in prayer; 

His earthly and his heavenly state 
Are none of her affair. 

The preacher was the man for them, 
His preaching pleased them all; 

So Mr. Pence, he moved that they 
Negotiate a call. 

Some twenty thousand dollars then 

They voted to disperse ; 
For they were called the richest church 

In all the universe. 



62 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



" Our church, it has," said Mrs. Bills, 
" The cream of all the place." 

" Bon ton" said Flora Pedigree ; 
" We hold both king and ace." 

" I like the preacher," sighed Miss Sweet, 

*' His sermons are so fine ; 
He's good at cards, will sometimes dance. 

And likes a glass of wine. 

" He never sa3's a word that grates 

On any gentle ear; 
He'll not disturb our social round, — 

We've not a thing to fear." 

I heard Miss Dazzlestones declare 

Religion was a bore, 
But his religion was au fait^ — 

She only longed for more. 

Oh, when the choir the anthem give 

(The people never sing) : 
" Let all the earth resound with praise, 

And all their worship bring," 

You hear the great soprano's voice, 

The finest tenor out; 
It's grand, although you may not know 

Just what it's all about. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 63 



The basso has a heavenly voice, 

Though not a heavenly hfe; 
He's over fond, 'tis whispered low, 
Of a rich neighbor's wife. 

'Tis whispered, too, his nights he spends 

Where no clean man may be; 
But then of heaven and things like that 

He sings so well, you see. 

'Twould never do that voice to lose 

From out the organ-loft ; 
The world would laugh, and whisper, 
''Prude," 

Or call the session " soft." 

The pastor says, and he knows best. 
The thing that should be said : 

" Our basso is a little wild, — 
Just what we call ' misled.' " 

" More sinned against than sinning," sighs 

Miss Glorygusher, fair, 
"God hates all sin of every kind. 

But will the sinner spare." 

The tenor is a lovely man, 

Such soft and pleading eyes; 
Around your soul he puts his arms 

And with it upward flies. 



64 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



On Friday night there is, I hear, 

A meeting held for prayer 
Of which old Deacon Dull has charge, — 

He's always in the chair. 

He says the same thing o'er and o'er, 

He moans a prayer, and then 
They all sit up and feel relieved 

When he drones out, " Amen." 

You see he was converted once 

When he was very young; 
And, more's the pity, he grew up 

The Methodists among. 

But no one minds his senile ways. 

There's use enough for him ; 
'Most every church must have some soul 

That's just a little grim. 

Now if the gospel you desire 

Done up in fancy style, 
And wish to see the fashions, too, 

And men who've made their pile, 

Attend on Sunday morning. Sir, 

(In evening no one goes) 
The Church ('tis Mary Rosebud's choice) 

Of Holy Furbelows. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 65 



THEOLOGICAL EXPERTS 

Bishops have a clear right to expect from all men de- 
vout and willing submission in matters of both doctrine 
and practice. They are theological experts, and in a very 
real sense the directors of conscience. It is not to be 
denied that there have been among our Spiritual Lords 
some who were incompetent and even imworthy, but even 
these sat in Moses' seat and might not be disobeyed with 
impunity. Implicit obedience is the one great law of the 
church. — Church Paper. 



When the gay monkey reigns 
We all do well to dance; 

And when the ass parades 
We all do well to prance. 

The monkey and the ass, 
They both can play the flute; 

The wise man is a fool 

Who would with them dispute. 

The teachers one and all, 
They sit in Moses' seat; 

They know the whole of truth, 
The will of God complete. 

He is a fool indeed 

Who would with them contend; 
Can we the ass instruct? 

The monkey comprehend? 



66 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Discourse, thou noble ass; 

To wisdom we incline; 
Be patient till our minds 

Climb slowly up to thine. 

Both ass and monkey reign, 
And daily they parade; 

'Tis ours to dance and prance 
To their sweet serenade. 



QUIET POWER 

Serene and still. 
The mighty will 
Of God prevails 
Where striving fails. 
They win the day 
Who learn the way 
Of quiet power, 
And bide their hour. 
No work is wrought 
By anxious thought. 
Our foolish haste 
Makes greater waste. 
Life's golden prize 
Before him lies 
Who takes his time. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 67 



THE TEST OF LOVE 

His lady fair a lover once reproved, 

For she had fondly kissed another swain. 
" I do deny," right stoutly she averred, 

" That he kissed me and I kissed him again." 
" Not so? not so.? " the lover cried. '' I know 

Because I saw, 'twas not what I had heard." 
Hot was the lady's speech : " You love me not. 

Since you believe your eyes and not my word. 



5J 



EVERLASTING TRIFLES 

Horum quis est, qui non malit rempublicam tiirbari, 
quam comam suain? qui non sollicifior sit de capitis sui 
decore, quam de salute generis humani? — Seneca. 

A CURT., a scarf-pin, or some foolish thing, 

Sets all the world awry; 
'Twas so when gay old Horace lived and loved. 

And will be so for aye. 
His life wise Seneca destroyed to please 

A graceless royal rogue: 
To kill a sage to glad a brutal king 

Was good old Roman vogue. 
Two thousand years have flown, and we, alas! 

Are as our fathers were, 
For wealth of mind and heart are little worth, — 

Gold sets the world astir. 



68 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



LOVE'S METEMPSYCHOSIS 

Brief space for tears and prayers 
To him who loves and dares 

The high gods send; 
But laughter-lighted days, 
Through all life's winding ways, 

Unto the end. 

I stand beside the sea, 
And salt winds cover me 

With spray. 
I know that I who stand 
Betwixt the sea and land 

All day 

Shall be as yellow dust, 
Blown here and there — 

Heaven's winds shall carry me 
I wist not w^here. 

But this one thing I know, 

Where'er my dust shall blow, 

The life of love will go. 

And if some lily spread 
Its golden heart or red 

Unto the sun, 
And it should chance to be 
My love Eulalie, 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 69 



My dust, like living light, 
Upon the wind's white wings. 
When through the grove she sings, 
The flower would find. 

Its silver stem would bend 
Until its shadow fell 
Above me like a bell 
That trembles for delight. 
The perfume of its breath 
Would lift me out of death 
And lead me into life. 



I REMEMBER 

Almost I loved you. 

But not quite; 

And now I do remember 

Through the long, dark night, 

Stretching far behind me 

Like the restless sea, 

Desolate, lonely, sobbing, 

On the dark shores of long ago — 

I do remember! I do remember! 

Yes, I do remember! It was best! 

I did not wholly love you, — 

I only thought I might adore you: 



70 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Thought ! You know the rest : 

You too remember 

(It was December) 

How, when the hills were white, 

And Winter day had faded 

To a longer Winter night, 

We quarreled. 

'Twas a blessed quarrel that gave vision 

To a blind and wandering heart. 

Ah well! Since then the flowers have faded, 

And have bloomed again in beauty many times ; 

Now return the snows of Winter 

After twenty years of Winter in my heart. 

I am dreaming, dreaming, dreaming 

Of the roses, fragrant, fair; 

Once you gayly bound them in your golden hair, 

While I shouted, wild with laughter, 

" Mea rosa! Mea rosaf ** 

Oh, so long — so long ago ! 

Had I loved you? 

Had I ! — who can tell 

What had been my life to me 

Had I loved you well? 

I did not love you — that was all ! 

Only still I must remember 

The lone, desolate December, 

And its visions like pale ghost-fires 

Dancing in the midnight sky. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 71 



CLEOPATRA'S MUMMY 

(British Museum, Case No. 6807) 

A HEAP of crumbling bones, 

Black with old Egypt's dust and grime ; 

A bit of shriveled skin ; 

A painted cloth, 

Brittle from years. 

And with bitumen stained. 

Was it for these, ambitious Roman, 
Thou the lily of pure wedded love 
Didst scorn to wear. 
That so upon thy perjured heart 
Might blush the crimson passion-rose of 
sin.'' 

Draw near! Thy hand repose 

Upon these dark and pulseless breasts, 

Hard as the lava-stones 

O'er which in triumph rolled. 

All drenched in blood. 

Thy chariot wheels. 

Whilst shouting hosts 

Rent with loud acclaim, 

From sea to sea. 

The azure heavens ! 

Once were these crumbling bones 

Clothed in a woman's beauty 



72 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



More fragrant than the breath of incense 

Burned where tinkling bells 

And crystal fountains 

Filled with gentle music 

The whispering groves of fair Dodona, 

And the pale-eyed priestess 

Breathed the hallowed air. 

Here rests the dark-eyed daughter 

of the Nile 
Who nursed on golden bed 
The sucking asp. 

Draw near, thou lover 

Whom the sweet-voiced poets laud! 

Enfold with throbbing heart 

The proud, lascivious queen 

Of all thy passion and desire, 

For whom thou didst despise 

The fair Octavia in her Roman home. 

Thou wilt not come ! 

The lonely shadows deepen, 

And from English sunset, 

Dull and gray as sea-blown mists, 

Dies the last flickering beam. 

And all at length is still. 

The visitors are gone: 

The doors are closed. 

The daughter of great Ptolemy 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 73 



In the London-town 

Slumbers unconscious of her shame. 

Where are the Caesars, - 

And proud Antony of old? 

Their warring spirits earth defied, 

And heaven. 

But now the meanest weed 

That on forsaken Actium's field 

Blooms for the dead. 

Need fear no i-ude alarm. 

The armed hosts are gone; 

Their conflicts all are ended, 

And the fury of their wrath 

Is stilled forever. 

Draw near — 

None shall thy right dispute! 

In yonder crystal case 

She who was the passion and despair 

Of nobler hearts than oft have ruled the 

world 
Dishonored lies ■ — unloved ! 
Meanly labeled and described 
For vulgar eyes to scan. 
Her charms 

The vilest boor may view. 
And count himself 
]\Iore fair than she. 



74 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

VIRGILII CARMINA 

Ex Typographia Firminortim Didot i 

How I love thee, little book ! 
Virgil made thee years ago — 
Sweeter poet never lived 
In this winter-world of ours ; 
And good Didot printed well 
All thy pages fair to see ; 
'Twas an artist of rare grace 
Made the pictures that adorn 
Volume of such sweet delight 
From the Roman singer's heart. 
What companionship is thine, 
Gentle friend of happy hours ! 
When I turn th}^ sacred leaves, 
Page on page of minted gold, 
Jewels from the mine of thought. 
Flowers of earth, and asphodel. 
All are mine — O treasure great ! 

When the evening shadows fall. 
And the twinkling stars on high 
Burn above my quiet home. 



1 Didot, celebrated French publisher and typographer. 
Beside issuing beautiful editions of Virgil and of Horace, 
he translated into French verse the " Bucolics " of Virgil 
and the " Idyls " of Theocritus. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 75 



In mj little room I go, 

And before the firelight muse 

With the Georgics open wide. 

-^neas lives again In thee: 
Throng around me men of old ; 
Songs of battle and of love, 
Songs of plowed and fertile fields, 
Gladness of our human life, 
Toil, and sorrow, and despair. 
All that man has known or been 
Throb and bum upon thy page. 
O what bliss my heart inspires 
As I wander far away 
With my Virgil hand in hand! 



RECIPROCITY 

All beauty waits on this for each. 
That each has found his own ; 

Till then the breathing lips are dead. 
The throbbing hearts are stone. 

Two souls beneath a common roof 
Long miles apart may live; 

We only from each other take 
What we ourselves can give. 



76 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



KINDNESS 

Whose eye with melting pity flows, 
His life is like a summer rose; 
But he whose ready hands are kind, 
A father's heart in God shall find; 
For better 'tis to love than weep, 
And better far to work than sleep, 
For human kindness is divine, 
And what thou givest shall be thine. 



COUPLETS 



One sweet delusion much I do prefer 

To countless facts that prick me like a burr. 

II 

Heine believed that life had ill, and only ill to 

give; 
Byron pretended so to think, yet how he loved to 

live! 

Ill 

With haste dissects the critic lines he could not 

write; 
No doubt his lack of skill accounts for all his 

spite. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 77 



THE LATER FAITH 

On lofty heights our fathers lived 
To which we may not climb; 

They sought for heavenly wealth, and so 
Let slip the things of time. 

But we, their children, live to-day 

In valleys dark with mist ; 
The things our fathers spurned we have, 

And what they sought have missed. 

The strength to climb our limbs have lost; 

Our wills are poor and weak ; 
The sunlit heights our fathers trod. 

To us seem rude and bleak. 



Yet not to them alone was given 
The strength to do and dare ; 

To us as well He lives who heard 
Their voice of psalm and prayer. 

Do stern New England virtues make 

Our milder virtues vain? 
Because our fathers walked with God, 

Is our poor walk profane? 



78 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



The martyr's crown we may not win, 

The hero's armor wear; 
Yet something of their trust in God 

Our human hearts may share. 

What Edwards ^ thought we may not 
breathe 

In sermon, psalm, or prayer: 
The creed no tender mercy holds, 

Leads only to despair. 

Not fire alone His symbol is, 

But a descending dove; 
And we to One may always go 

Whose changeless name is Love. 

In kindly deed and helpful life 

His gospel sounds again; 
No book contains so well His word, 

Nor priestly rite, nor fane. 

In gentle hearts He lives, and true, 

Whate'er the creed or name ; 
And they who mercy show to men 

May His great mercy claim. 

1 Jonathan Edwards, distinguished divine and meta- 
physician. He was at one time missionary to the Indians, 
and later he became the President of the College of New 
Jersey (now Princeton University). His principal work is 
" An Inquiry into the Notion of Freedom of the Will." 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 79 



MODERN SPIRITUALISM 

A TEUST that ancient folly yet shall come 
To feed on all the human race; 

A ghastly faith that kneels before a lie, 
And glories in its own disgrace. 

A faith that tramples reason 'neath its foot, 
And mocks the wisdom of the schools ; 

That drives the holy angels out of heaven, 
And fills the future world with fools. 



PURITY 

On uncreated Light, 

All unabashed, 

Wouldst thou 

In wonder gaze — 

And Love eternal 

In that Light behold? 

From word, and thought, and thing 

impure 
Keep thou thy soul: 
They only of the sons of men, 
Who from the vile contagion of their 

lives 
Turn them away, 
Shall look on God, and live. 



80 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

TO WILLIAM H. HOPKINS, D.D. 

September 7, 1913 

I BOW my head with them that pray, 
And in their worship, far away 
My soul drifts on to that bright day 
When God shall wipe all tears away. 

I hear your kindly words so wise 
That lead through darkness to the skies ; 
My prayer goes with you on its way 
To that far distant, blessed day. 

Far, far from us that time may be, — 
The year of earth's glad Jubilee ; 
Yet crowns He still the passing hour 
With larger faith, and greater power. 

Of eld His Spirit breathed, and then 
The Prophet spake the word to men; 
To-day, as once, the Prophet lives, 
And to the world His message gives. 

Speak thou through earth's rude noise 

and strife. 
Rekindling hope where once was life; 
Our hearts are sad, our fears are strong. 
Our faith is weak, our waiting long. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 81 

TRUST 

Naomi 

I CANNOT know if good or ill 

My future lot enfold; 
But, Lord, I rest in peace because 

Thou dost that future hold. 

And though at times my spirit fails. 

And weary seems the day, 
I grasp Thy hand and follow on 

Through all the lonely way. 

I care not if the road be rough, 

Or filled with flowery ease ; 
The hardest road with Thee is smooth ; 

Without Thee none can please. 

I would not. Lord, apart from Thee 
Bright wealth or pleasure choose ; 

And what I have, I pray Thee now. 
For Thine own glory use. 

Thus may I trust Thy holy Word, 

And follow Thy sweet will. 
Assured that in the darkest night 

Thou art beside me still. 



82 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

PRAYER FOR STRENGTH 

Eventide 

Through visions of the night and toils of day 
Let no temptation's power my purpose sway, 
But grant, dear Lord, Thy love's unchanging 

might 
To keep my trembling faith and honor bright. 

Be hand and heart alert to do Thy will, 
Not with impatient haste, but calm and still ; 
Thus when the long day's work for Thee is done, 
My waiting soul shall dread no setting sun. 

At last when softly fall the shadows deep, 
And sinks th' o'er weary brain to quiet sleep. 
From every anxious care and burden free, 
Let me forevermore abide with Thee. 



GOD 

Ten thousand worlds His face behold ; 
Beneath His feet the stars are dust ; 
Yet man contains Him all in all. 
In our rude speech He speaks His will,- 
Not wild the sibyl's frenzy was. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 83 



Nor was the prophet's warning vain; 
Still brightly burns the hallowed fire, 
And stammering lips the message breathe. 
The Love creative reappears, 
And as the Father, so the child. 



HE IS THE SAME TO ME 

The Man of Sorrows — what a name ! 
The Son of God — O wondrous fame ! 

What may compare with that? 
Yet He who wore a crown of light 
Knew our eclipse of death and night — 

What may compare with that? 

If He be man, or He be God, 

It is the same since once He trod 

This earth by sorrow stained. 
And what He may be, still to me 
He is the One who set me free, 

My life eternal gained. 

Dear Christ of God, my heart I bow.; 
I yield Thee all — I yield it now : 

No more from me depart. 
In life, in death, where'er I be, 
I call Thee, Lord ; abide with me ; 

Dwell Thou within my heart. 



84 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



HYMN 

Lo, now I know that Christ within 
Speaks through the shadow of our sin ; 
And though we dwell in utter gloom, 
There shall be light beyond the tomb. 

Immortal One, Thv voice we hear — 
It soothes our grief ; it dries each tear ; 
And speaks through ages dim and long 
To bid the fainting soul be strong. 

Men feel Thy mighty power to save ; 
Thy love they know, and grow more brave : 
Ten hundred years have flown, but Thou, 
Unchanging One, art with us now. 

We cannot fall from Thine embrace — 
Thou boldest all the human race — 
Thou art in every soul, when blest, 
Eternal Christ, made manifest! 

Thy power, O holy Christ, we feel ; 
And all the hours Thy love reveal: 
We sin, but Thou art over all — 
We cannot from Thy mercy fall. 

O Son of God! O Friend of Man! 
Through countless years Thy purpose ran- 
Thy purpose, filled with love divine. 
That saved the race and made it Thine. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 85 



JUDAS 

Down rang upon the paved floor 

The coins for which his Lord he sold ; 
From mind and flesh alike the strength 

Was gone, and bent he seemed, and old. 
He could not sleep ; his waking hours 

With nameless dread were filled ; 
The light of hope was quenched, for he 

His own dark soul had killed. 

Upon his every thought a curse 

Sank deep, with bitter scorn and shame; 
Himself he loathed, and loathed as well 

His place, his office, and his name. 
Apostle once, what was he now? 

A traitor in both deed and word, — 
One who for thirty silver coins 

Betrayed his Saviour and his Lord. 

Dear Lord, we pray that we may keep 

Unspotted, free, forever strong. 
Our faith, our duty, and our toil; 

That evermore our life one song 
Of love and joyous praise may be. 

Oh never, dear and gracious Lord, 
Let us our trust in Thee betray, 

And fail of Love's divine reward. 



86 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



BURIAL HILL ^ 

Gone with their beautiful faith, 
Their wonder, and vision divine, 
Are the men of our Puritan days. 
And the wives and mothers of old, — 
Each grave in New England's a shrine. 
The living still echo their praise. 
But hold not as of yore their belief. 
Strong were their sermons and prayers, 
And sweet were the hymns they sung, 
But the fathers are dust 'neath our feet ; 
The voice of their worship is still. 
I hear the glad carol of birds. 
And the song of the wind in the trees. 
As they heard them of old in this place; 
Yet not as they heard them I hear. 
For dead are the wonder and fear 
That made the forest resound 
With shout of battle and prayer. 
In the roar of the sea on the shore 
The voice of Jehovah they heard; 
They beheld Him in dreams of the night, 
And they rose in the pride of their might, 
And defied all the world in His name. 
Their faith was a rock of defense. 
Hard as the flint in their guns; 
Not loveless, but stem and austere 

Plymouth, Massachusetts. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 87 



As the righteous, implacable fate 

Thej adored in the God whom they served. 

They are gone, and their faith is no more, — 

Its beauty, its wonder, its love, 

Its fear, its might, and despair; 

But we, their children, still hold, 

Not their creed, but their life in regard — 

We honor them still in our hearts. 

Here lived, and sorrowed, and loved, 

The men of those Puritan days ; 

And here 'neath our feet they repose 

Under violet, daisy, and vine. 

And the fragrant and trailing wild rose. 

Mingles their dust with the dust 

Of the hills and valleys they knew; 

But their spirits so brave and devout, — 

Ah, who shall arise to declare, 

If the dream of their worship came true? 



FICHTE'S GRAVE 

(Dorotheenstadt Cemetery, Berlin, November 16, 1895) 

Here rests a pilgrim at his journey's end. 

Nor smiting sun, nor blasting storms disturb 
Repose well earned, his day of life well spent ; 

Sweet Death hath mixed for him her drowsy 
herb, 



88 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Infused a gentle slumber through his veins, 

And on his brow impressed the kiss of peace; 

Here joy and sorrow, equal strife to him, 

And all his doubt, and love, and longing cease. 

Hegel and Solger by his side repose. 

And near, the gentle wife who loved him well ; 
Around his grave the evening shadows fall. 

And through the tree tops weave their won- 
drous spell; 
Hard by the sculptured marble bears his name, 
And words from Daniel's rapt and mystic 
page: 
" Like the bright firmament the teachers shine , 

And as the stars of heaven forevermore. 
Who turn men's thoughts to righteousness and 
God, 
And teach the heart to worship and adore." 

Dear master of the thoughts of men, in love 

Upon thy grave these humble lines I place ; 
O'er me the light of reason thou dost shed. 

And all my doubts and brooding fears ef- 
face. 
The flame that Kant had kindled thou didst fan 

To brighter radiance of thy heavenly fire; 
Thy living words have wisdom to console, 

The power to cleanse, illumine, and inspire. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 89 



ONE 



One blood are we; 
Therefore One Blood 
For us was shed, 
That as we still 
Are of a single race, 
We might become 
The one divine creation 
Of the One Creative Love. 



SOMEWHERE 

Somewhere a place is waiting — 
Has waited long for me ; 

I cannot tell if on the land, 
Or in the deep blue sea. 

It may be on the mountain top, 
By wandering breezes fanned; 

Or in some lonely valley. 
In a forsaken land. 

But whether it be on the land, 
Or 'neath the boundless sea. 

It is the place that Nature holds 
Close to her heart for me. 



90 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



LINES WRITTEN UPON A SKULL 

Here, like a golden star, 

Shone life's brief dream ; 

Hope came and went, 

And Sorrow stayed awhile ; 

Then fell the night 

On flagging pulse, 

And on shut eyelids 

Closed for rest. 

So vanished 

In the crimson west 

Declining day, 

Years, years, and years ago ; 

And only this remains. 



« DUST TO DUST » 

" Dust to dust ! " cries out an ancient church 
Above the lonely graves of all her dead; 

Better the silent lip, could no sweet word 
Of tender hope and pity there be said. 

" Earth to earth, and ashes unto ashes ! " 

Not thus to trembling hearts spake Christ of 
old. 
" Thy dead shall live," breathes from the Sacred 
Page, 
And lo ! from every tomb the stone is rolled. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 91 



ON THE REMOVAL OF THE REMAINS 
OF CALDERON 

1840 

Unto a tomb more splendid than was thine, 
O gentle poet of rare mind and art divine, 
There was no need transfer thy sacred dust. 
Nor need to rear for thee the marble bust ! 
Increased renown to seek for thee were vain. 
For lo, thy tomb is Portugal and Spain! 



COMMON SENSE 

Strive not for what beyond thine utmost striv- 
ing lies, 
Nor sigh the thing that must forevermore re- 
main; 
Yield not to trifles that obstruct thine onward 
way; 
From lust of gold and knowledge evermore re- 
frain. 
Not centered in thyself, but with a noble love. 

Seek thou thy daily gladness in another's joy; 
Thy neighbor's life should be the measure of 
thine own. 
For only universal pleasures never cloy. 
One homely virtue is man's ever-sure defense. 
His changeless friend — its name is Common 
Sense. 



92 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE SECRET OF THE STARS 

Wie das Gestirn, 

Oline Hast, 

Aber ohne Rast, 

Drehe sich jeder 

Um die eigne Last. — Goethe. 

Ah, well! If it were so 
That ever we might go, 
Starwise, in silent flight 
Through the encircling night, 
With neither haste nor rest, 
Whether in East or West, 
In North or South aflame ; 
Having this single aim: 
Always the appointed task 
To perform, and not to ask 
Foreknowledge of our fate. 

Wie das Gestirn — even so ! 
Summers come and summers go. 
Fragrant flowers and drifting snow, 
Empires rise and empires fall; 
These can not disturb at all 
Draco's eighty flames of fire, 
Vega, and the golden Lyre. 
All the fret of our brief life, 
All the seeking and the strife. 
What we hate and what we choose, 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



What we win and what we lose — 
These, how poor they all appear 
When we think of that high sphere 
Where the stars burn on for aye 
Through the vast expanse of sky, 
Without haste and without rest, 
Ever doing each its best 
At its own appointed work. 

Soul of man, the stars above 
Breathe of one eternal love, 
Centered in no misty creed, 
But interpreted in deed. 
List ! the secret now they tell : 
Do thy work, and do it well. 



AGE 

"Hdrj yap 6 Btos ovfibs ea-iripau ayei. 

When life grows cold 

And we are old, 

The fire burns low, 

And winter's snow 

Falls through twilight air. 

And everywhere 

Is stillness and regret; 

And we forget 

All save the early day 



94 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

So far away. 

When life is lonely, 

And we only 

Have ceaseless quest — 

Seeking for rest 

That lingers on the way, 

As loth to stay 

With dull and frosty age — 

Who shall our grief assuage, 

The weak regret and dole 

Of a poor trembling soul 

With healing words console? 

Friend of the early day, 

If still there stay 

With us Thy presence dear, 

Nor grief, nor fear, 

Nor sins that we deplore. 

Can wound us sore. 

There never can be grief. 

But Thy relief 

Shall fall like summer rain 

That brings again 

The glad, sweet flowers of spring. 

And so at last. 

Our work well done. 

Unmoved we'll view 

The swift descending sun 

Go down for aye, 

And one by one the twinkling stars 

Light up the sky. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 95 



A WAYSIDE FLOWER 

A UTTLE flower, it bloomed and died 

Unseen, the dusty road beside ; 

Its beauty vanished into air ; 

Such flowers grow alwaj^s everywhere, 

Too common for a thought or care. 

Yet while it lived 'twas fair to see, — 
As fair as prouder flower might be ; 
To one brief hour it gave new grace, 
Adorned, unprized, its humble place. 

What more, dear friend, can you or I, 
With richer earth and bluer sky, 
Than just some lowly grace supply 
For careless feet that pass us by? 



THE FLOWER OF SLEEP 

Sweet sleep, loved flower, pale flower of night. 

Thy leaves so pure unfold to me, 
And breathe thine opiate fragrance o'er me now, 

That I may hide myself in thee ! 

The tears I weep shall water thee. 

And thou shalt grow the while more bright 

Until glad dreams do sparkle on thy stem 

The pendent fruit of blessed night ! 



96 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



PIMENTO 

A WEST INDIES FOLK STORY 

There was a little mamma who many children 
had, all in her pleasant home. By the sea the 
children loved to roam, where oft they danced a 
merry dance with the white-kirtled foam. 

Not a sou to spare the little mamma had — 
she was poor as poor could be. The children 
knew it not, or they didn't care a jot, as they 
played hide-and-seek with the children of the sea. 

Early in the morning from door to door the 
little mamma toiled, from the neighbors some re- 
lief to find — good and generous neighbors in 
their fisher-huts along the treacherous reef. 
Bread she sought to feed her children down by 
the wind-tossed sea. 

Stealthy as a mouse, on from house to house 
did the little mamma fare, for she would not have 
the children know the cupboard was so bare, and 
the purse so very low. Food alone it was she 
sought wherewith to feed her merry, laughing 
brood, dancing with the children of the sea. 

Some manioc flour for her children to devour 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 97 



the little mamma had obtained from an open- 
handed friend — three chopines in a dish, all her 
heart could wish. Another gave pimentos on a 
tray to season all the food, and to make it sharp 
and good for her children five and three, sporting 
with the children of the sea. 

The little mamma bought — 'twas a happy 
thought — with the only sou she owned, a bit of 
codfish that was boned, and as sweet as it could 
be, to feed her dancing children, singing all day 
a merry roundelay with the children of the sea. 

" Thank you, macoume; you've been good and 
kind to me. I pray the saints may bless you 
when my dear ones eat the stew, and the tooth- 
some little cake that on the stone I'll quickly 
bake for those children five and three playing all 
the day in each creek and foaming bay with the 
glad and romping children of the sea.' 



» 



So' soon as she was home the little mamma 
made, the while the children played, a brightly 
glowing fire with bits of broken brier that had 
grown so near the mire they were hard to gather 
up. The priest, he let her take all her feeble 
hands could break. Oh, the sparks ! Oh, the 
sparks ! How they danced, and they flew while 
the little mamma blew with her eager breath 



^8 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



the flames ! On the stone there did bake a most 
enticing cake. And the children, glad and free, 
came romping from the sea to be fed and put to 
bed where the waves deep and blue they could 
hear the long night through sport in foamy kir- 
tles on the sea. 

The little mamma took a pot filled with water 
that was hot, and poured pimentos in to boil. 
Then the fire repaid her toil with food that made 
her aged limbs to dance as her children loved to 
dance. Young again she seemed, or was it that 
she dreamed? Round and round she swung, and 
she whirled and she flew, doing as her children 
loved to do. Oh, the little mamma with her chil- 
dren by the sea! 

Then her haton-lele the little mamma took, and 
with it stirred and shook the pimentos well. 
Gladly all the plates for the children she did fill, 
and her old husband, too, partook of the savory 
stew. But, O ye godless Fates ! on every side the 
plates went crashing to the floor. The children 
screamed with pain; and the husband, loud he 
swore. It was all in vain, for the food it burned 
them sore till they could endure no more. Then 
down they ran, screaming, to the children of the 
sea. 

" A'ie! ouaill! my wife ! " the husband, he did 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 99 



cry, for he surely thought he'd die. He was 
himself beside, he was burning so inside. And 
the children loud did call, " Ouuill! mamma ! save 
us, mamma dear — we are full of pain and fear ! " 

So to quench the fearful heat that raged from 
head to feet, the little children drank the foam- 
ing waters of the sea ; and down and down they 
sank the more they drank and drank, till drowned 
they lay enfolded in the arms of the children of 
the sea. 

Ah, sad the fate my story doth relate! The 
httle mamma and her old husband all alone sat 
weeping on a stone, for their children they were 
drowned in the sea. They were sore bereft, for 
not a child was left. They could never see their 
little ones again, for o'er them rolled the foaming, 
tumbling billows of the main. 

It was a luckless day I happened by that way. 
I heard the little mamma moan where she sat 
weeping with her old husband on a sea-beaten 
stone. I asked them: " What ails you both? " 
Up sprang the husband with an oath, and he gave 
me one good kick as if I'd been a senseless brick, 
and he sent me flying to the further side of the 
bay. I landed on my back with a whack and a 
clatter, but I heard him, where I lay, cry across 
the foaming bay : " Now you know what's the 
matter." 



100 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



" SIGH NOT A VANISHED PAST " 

Why chase the flying dream 

Of wealth and fame ? 
For us the marble waits ; — 

A date — a name. 



The grass is green to-day, 
The heavens are blue; 

The summer heart holds now 
Love sweet and true. 



Fill the swift hour with glad, 
Kind deeds and words. 

The fragrance of the flowers, 
The song of birds. 



Sigh not a vanished past, 

A fading year ; 
Enrich the passing hour. 

And banish fear. 



So shall the world grow 3'oung, 

And envy die; 
Peace from the heavens descend, 

And God draw nigh. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 101 



FORGIVENESS 

When man goes astray, a demon from lowest hell 
Comes swiftly forth within his sinful soul to 
dwell; 
But when, with penitence of heart. 
The tears of deep contrition start. 
They drown the ciniel demon, and behold he dies ; 
And Love Divine plants sweet forgiveness where 
he lies. 



THE DAISY 

A LITTLE daisy 

White and gold 
In my garden grew; 
All the daisy knew 

Could be told 
In five lines or less; 
Yet the day I bless, 

That little flower. 

With heavenly dower. 
Sweet comfort brought to me. 

In its humble grace 

I beheld the face 

Of the Christ of old 
Who the birds and flowers 

Loved with tender love. 

Would He love me less 
Than He loved the lilies long ago? 



102 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Little daisy, bright and fair, 
We may trust His constant care 
In field and garden everywhere. 

THE SAFEST CREED 

" Name me the safest creed," I cried, 

" These warring faiths my mind confuse." 
Then answer made a gentle Voice: 

" To none who seek thy help, refuse ; 
Do good; believe that good shall come, — 

That out of darkness light shall shine ; 
In every man a brother see, 

And thou hast found a creed divine. 
The age shall Calvin's name forget, 

And Channing's words shall die in air, 
But they who love their fellow men 

Shall find the future bright and fair." 

AUF WIEDERSEHEN 

And until then, brave soul, farewell! 
I cannot think that what befell 
Thy mortal frame must be the end 
Of thee, my best beloved friend. 
Yes, we shall meet again, or life 
Were but an idle, foolish strife. 
And death were what we most should prize. 
Both summer fields and winter skies 
Repeat again: auf wiedersehen! 



QUATRAINS 



'How strange a thing is life, with its many moods, re- 
flected well in the short poems and terse sayings of 
wise poets! In the Epigrams of Martial, and in the 
Quatrains of later writers, the world is described with 
brutal frankness. The poets disclosed what they saw, 
and what they saw all men may behold in their verses 
with equal clearness if they will."— Arch^ologia. 



TO 
THE MEMBERS OF 

THE AUTHORS CLUB 

OF NEW YORK 

IN REMEMBRANCE OP 

AMBROSIAL NIGHTS 

THESE QUATRAINS ARE DEDICATED 



SHELLEY 

The sorrows of the world to music sweet, 

Our English Ariel set ; 
And in his perfect verse the tenderest love 

With deathless daring met. 



HEINE 

Derision curled his lip, 
And in his smile was scorn; 

Yet bloomed the golden rose 
Beside the iron thorn. 



JUNIUS 

Unknown to all, yet knowing all too well. 
Thyself a nom de plume, how trenchant was 
thy blade ! 

The years are flown ; thy mighty foes are dead ; 
And still refuse the laurels on thy brow to fade. 



TOPLADY AND WESLEY 

Good men, they quarreled in their day 

About God's grace that made them free; 

That God was larger than their creeds 

These two great preachers could not see. 
107 



108 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THOREAU 

His heart in field and stream rejoiced, — 
In fish, and bird, and creeping things ; 

He might his fellow men have loved. 

Had Nature given them horns and wings. 



HELEN 

For Helen burned the towers of Troy, 
Those lordly walls are flaming still; 

Unchecked, the fires of passion rage, 
And modem Helens have their will. 



BOOKS 

Our friends, as years advance, depart, 

But noble books remain ; 
In them the blessed dead return 

To dwell with us again. 

POETRY 

When I am dead, good friend of mine. 
In each of my cold hands let be 

Nor rose, nor leaf, but some dear book 
Of sweet and priceless poesy. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 109 



LITERATURE 

The mellow grape of golden song, 
How rich the lifeblood in its veins ; 

Happy his hours, his life how long, 
Who the glad wine of letters drains. 

POLITICAL LEADERS 

Firm in their toils they hold us fast, 
And we but do their evil will ; 

For gain with greedy haste they strive, 
And we, poor fools, — we pay the bill. 

BONDAGE 

Vast time and space the human mind conceives, 
And then of both becomes the willing slave ; 

A narrow world immures the living man 

Perhaps he'll leave his bondage in the grave. 

DANGEROUS WEAKNESS 

What most I fear is not yon giant clad in 
steel, 

But that sweet-tempered fool I cannot trust ; 
He trips my soul with silly counsel and advice, 

While I can deal the giant thrust for thrust. 



no POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



EXPERIENCE 

He only charts the heavens for me 
Who sails himself that upper sea; 
His teaching must from knowledge flow 
If he would have me with him go. 



AGE 

The rose and wine of yestertime 
No more my jaded tastes invite; 

The glowing hearth and quiet home, 
Lost pleasures of my youth requite. 



A LOUD CALL 

How loud to Tipping church the urgent call- 
Ten thousand and a costly city house ! 

From other churches soundless every call 
As the soft footsteps of a nimble mouse. 

CURED 

The skillful surgeon feared he could not live, 
And so he wisely slew him with a knife; 

He might have died, poor fool, like other men, 
Had not the healing art destroyed his life. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS HI 



"HASTE MAKES WASTE" 

" Great wits will jump ! " and so will nimble fleas. 

I pray you, Master Sterne, remember this : 
The greatest wits take time, and never fail 

Of what the jumping fools are sure to miss. 

WAR 

OrE far ideal is the distant peace. 

But strife has too its sacred mission now; 
Behind the cruel sword we rightly dread, 

It is the mailed hand that drives the plow. 

LOVE 

No man can love, and from his fellow men 
The all-transforming passion hide; 

It changes every feehng of the soul, — 
Exalts his courage, and subdues his pride. 

INCONSTANCY 

A MOTH once loved a star, and for it sighed 
Through all the long, dark, lonely, weary 
night : 

That moth the star forgot when, in its pride. 
The rising sun snuffed out its feebler light. 



112 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



AGNOSTICS 

How fade youth's golden dreams from view ; 
Mid-life invites the critic-crew 
Who pierce our hoary fables through, 
Yet cannot tell us what is true. 



CREMATION 

Do you wish when dead to bum? 
Lift the lid to this small urn ; 
In the ashes you shall see 
All there is of you or me. 

TRANSFUSION 

A MAN he seems, yet hog he surely is. 
From every kindly service well excused; 

Into his human frame some ugly Fate 

The swinish blood of " me and mine " trans- 
fused. 

SIXTY 

Sixty — how swift the flying years go by ! 
One scarce begins to live when he must die. 
Yet I have lived, though I should live no more, 
And I have found life sweet from stem to core. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 113 



CHRISTIAN SCIENCE 

Nor science true, nor yet a Christian cult, 
But Mumbo- Jumbo in the brain ; 

And a new Bible by our lady writ 
With single eye to worldly gain. 



HOW TO ESCAPE DOUBT 

Would you your doubts escape? 

Behold the path of weal ! — 
Live less in what you think, 

And more in what you feel. 



TOO LATE 

God tricks no soul ; none are deceived by fate ; 
And when the moving finger writes, " Too late ! " 
Upon the ruined walls of life, decay 
Makes plain the truth that hope has passed away. 



POPULAR GOVERNMENT 

Time proves 'tis but an idle dream 
That men themselves may rule alone, 

With neither lords of church nor state, 
And no wise monarch on his throne. 



114 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



VALUE 

Better than fairest pebble is, 

In yonder brook you saw, 
The diamond that was scorned because 

It had an ugly flaw. 



CASTLES IN SPAIN 

Dear friend of other days no more, 
And friend of those that still remain, 

What boots our wealth of golden hours- 
If all our castles are in Spain? 



LIFE AND DEATH 

Nor life nor death we understand, 
But one we love and one we fear; 

Perhaps in other worlds than this 
No great distinction will appear. 



ALBANY 

O PLEASANT city, Dutch, and rich, and old, 
I wonder if more enterprise you had. 

Your quiet folk who eat, and sleep, and die, 
Would think you wicked grown, or gone stark 
mad. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 115 



THE LARGER KNOWLEDGE 

Could I but find the secret 

In the heart of some poor weed, 

I'd win a larger knowledge 

Than is locked in your small creed. 



HERESY 

" Do you deny the devil? " asked the pious priest. 

'' 'Tis whispered you no more believe in hell." 
" E'en so, good priest ! I now believe in God, 

And must be counted worse than infidel." 



THE UNKNOWABLE 

We cannot know 

What we have wrought; 
Life far exceeds 

Our utmost thought. 



EQUITY 

The other side of retribution is reward, 
Together in one common soil they grow. 

Their living roots take hold on justice, and, be- 
hold! 
Who scorns the one must see the other go. 



116 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



MEN FEAR THE TRUTH 

Men long to know the Truth, 
And yet the Truth they fear ; 

The heavenly prophets speak, 
And they refuse to hear. 



EARLY TRAINING 

Holy Religion, I thy word believe; 

Yet why ? I never studied aught to know. 
Ah me! the truth to tell, it is because 

From infant's cradle I was started so. 



CHANCE 

" None but the brave deserves the fair," 
Yet oft the coward wins the maid; 

I've seen the hero travel far, 

And for his pains bring back a jade. 



MATERIALISM 

A FAITH that grasps the outer shell, 
But never seeks for hidden fruit ; 

And to explain the soul of song, 

Would weigh and measure pipe and lute. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 117 



" YOU CANNOT MAKE A SILVER CUP 
FROM A PEWTER POT " 

On every street her silken garments trail, 
But her rude manners tell the tale of youth ; 

We strive to seem what we can never be, 

And while we lie, behold we tell the truth. 



ALFIERI'S TOMB ^ 

Canova's marble ! — Alfieri's dust ! 

Genius divine and heavenly art! 
Vain were they both had Passion kindled not 

The flame of love in woman's heart. 



THE DIVINE DOUBT 

Must I believe? Good friend, I doubt much 
more 
Than you have ever thought there was to 
doubt ; 
And yet with equal joy and service I have lived 
Your forms of worship and your creed without. 

1 Marble tomb of Alfieri by Canova, erected by the 
Countess of Albany in Santa Croce, Florence. 



118 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



ASSURANCE 

How, when, and where — of these I may not 
know; 
My times are in Thy hand ; 
Through calm and storm ahke my boat, un- 
harmed. 
Draws near the heavenly land. 



COMPOUNDING FOR SINS WE ARE 
INCLINED TO 

Without a scratch our modem sinners scape 
While pulpit wrestlers thrash the ancient 
Jews; 

Loud roars the wicked world with laughter wild, 
To see the ducats drop from wealthy pews. 



THE FOOL'S SUCCESS 

Wrote Pope : " Fools rush in where angels fear 
to tread." 
'Tis so. The stupid fools we load with scorn 
Oft in life's great race come boldly out ahead, 
And blow with lusty throat their vulgar horn. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 119 



TRANSCENDENTALISM 

A DARK abyss where nothing is, 
Adown whose silent spaces deep, 

From naught to naught, with wild delight, 
The modern saint and sibyl leap. 



ASPIRATION 

As longs the star for night, 
The flower for the sun. 

So longs my soul for Thee, 
O Holy One. 



THE EVENING OF THE LORD'S DAY 

And now to rest — the sacred day is o'er ! 

O Soul, it was a blessed day of Grace, 
Made beautiful with holy love divine. 

And with the shining of thy Saviour's face. 



BEYOND THE HARBOR BAR 

Why weep, sweetheart? The night draws nigh 
When tears and laughter all shall cease. 

The hours use well that still remain; 
Beyond the harbor bar lies peace. 



120 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER 

Death, kindly mother, gently rocks in love 

The coffin-cradles of the old; 
To sweet and dreamless slumber croons us all 

When life's brief story has been told. 



TRUTH 

There danger dwells where dwells not Truth; 
Nor gold, nor gems, nor rosy youth 
Shall friendly be when she hath fled ; 
The soul that knows her not is dead. 



HERE AND NOW 

" What is a ghost ? " inquired a little child : 
I gently pressed its trembling hand. 

And softly whispered, " You behold a ghost, 
And this bright world is spirit land." 



PASSION 

Who tastes not Passion's burning cup, 
The wine of knowledge never drains ; 

Like childhood's hours, his life is filled 
With infant's joys and infant's pains. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 121 



THE USELESSNESS OF WRANGLING 

Men may argue, discuss, and contend 
About sects, and parties, and schools; 

But a touch of sweet love in the world 
Makes all the debaters seem fools. 



A SELFISH HEART 

How oft our trembling nerves we drug, 

Neglecting the disease ; 
The trouble is a selfish heart 

That loves its own sweet ease. 



LIFE 

Inwoven wreaths of mist 
From the sea, blown 

To islands far remote, 
And lands unknown. 



LAWYER-POLITICIANS 

Ninety-eight thousand lawyers in our land — 
Shrewd, scheming politicians more than half: 

To hear them talk of civic righteousness 

Would make a wall-eyed, stub-tailed donkey 
laugh. 



122 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



"HOW DO CHERRIES TASTE?" 

How do cherries taste? 

I cannot tell; 
But the children know, 

And birds as well. 



THE INNER WORSHIP 

By too much incense the idol is obscured, — 
The pomp of worship blinds our feebler sight ; 

The heavenly vision waits not our command, — 
The heart outweighs all holy word and rite. 



WHY? 

Why should you die before you die? 

Cross the bridge ere you reach the stream? 
If life be as men say, a sleep, 

Sleep on, sweetheart, and dream your dream. 



CHURCH AND STATE 

Behold the wedding of the Church and State ! 

And lo, the bitter bridal of despair! 
The one doth justice barter to the priest ; 

With gold the other chokes the mouth of 
Prayer. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 123 



THE BEST CREED 

So many creeds my faith demand, 
I know not which to choose ; 

Perhaps the best is after all 
The one I best can use. 



DRIFTWOOD 

Upon my hearth the driftwood burns, 
Rude waves have brought me from afar: 

Across the sea my children went, — 
To-night I wonder where they are. 

PREACHING VERSUS PRACTICE 

" Briskly venture," wrote the poet,^ 

*' Briskly roam ; " 
Yet how well the German singer 

Loved his home. 

CRICKET ON THE HEARTH 

Dear cricket on my lonely hearth, 
The winter snows are drifting now; 

Your quiet chirp through all the night 
Brings autumn thoughts of bird and bough. 

1 Goethe: " Wilhelm Meistefs Apprenticeship and 
Travels." 



124 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE HOUR 



Dost in God believe ? — 
What canst thou achieve? 
Hast thou the power? — 
Behold the hour! 



FRIENDSHIP 



Love burns the heart with ceaseless flame, 
But friendship, like the summer air 

With scent of flowers from wood and field. 
Breathes gentle fragrance everywhere. 



CHOICE 

No fate compels the soul of man 

To sorrow or rejoice; 
There is no fate in earth or heaven 

But that of man's free choice. 



TO A PLAGIARIST 

You stole my gold and I upbraided not, — 
I gave you more to help you in your need; 

But when you stole my songs you stole my heart, 
And " Thief " I brand you for your shameless 
greed. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 125 



PROCRASTINATION 

Wisdom too late they learn. 
Who learn not now ; 

Vain is the search for fruit 
On winter bough. 



PEACE AT LAST 

In pain my gentle mother gave me birth, 
And always Sorrow sat beside my hearth; 
Ere sinks the sun, and all my troubles cease, 
Turned sixty, grant me. Lord, a little peace. 



DR. GIRTH 

Who rests beneath this stone concerns thee not: 
To be unknown was always his sad lot. 
But if thou must his humble name unearth, 
Know this : it rhymes with what he lacked — 
sweet Mirth. 



A DIFFERENCE IN NAME 

Why ask which party most deserves your vote? 

In name alone they differ, — nothing more. 
Fair is the fruit, and tempting to the eye, 

But nauseous, wormy, rotten at the core. 



126 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



MODERN EDEN 

Our rights are many and our duties are but few : 
To live, be happy, and forever free; 

These unforbidden fruits in Modern Eden 
grew — 
Three golden apples on a single tree. 



WINE 

In sun and shower the purple clusters grow, 
Their branches swing with ev'ry dancing breeze 

That softly whispers : " Song, and picture fair, 
And world-wide wisdom dwell in these." 



TOBACCO 

The shadows fall, and evening brings repose, — 
From friendly pipe the fragrant clouds ascend ; 

sweet consoler of life's toil and grief. 

How many happy hours with thee we spend. 

HATEFUL LOVE 

HATEFUL. Love, forever on the wing, 

1 feel the fiery torment of thy sting! 
Like cruel wasp, no mercy hast thou now; 
'Tis always sigh, or hope, or fear, or vow. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 127 
EPITAPHS 



Pluck now a flower for memory's sake, 
If e'er you knew the dead; 

White for the pure and stainless faith, 
For life's high noon the red. 



II 

The huntsman chased the luckless fawn 

Across the distant lea; 
So Death, forever swift of foot. 

Pursued and captured me. 



Ill 

Envious Death pursued my child, 
And tore him from my breast; 

The bough remains, but on the earth 
Low lies the ruined nest. 



IV 

Death waited long for me; 

Now here I must remain, 
The friend of flower and weed. 

Bright sun and falling rain. 



128 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



FREEDOM 

I MAY be poor, yet if no debt 

Bind me the slave I would not be, 

A happy man myself I count, 

Since they are happy who are free. 



THE CANDLE OF THE LORD 

If God will light His candle in my heart, 
The candle on the altar may depart; 
For in my breast behold that inner light 
Makes e'en the heavenly glory darker night. 



HOPE 

Hope is a woman, 
Both wise and mild. 

In whose loving arms 
Nestles a child. 



YOUTH AND AGE 

" Pleasure ! " cries Youth, " 'tis pleasure I de- 
mand; 

With eager lip the crystal cup I drain." 
Sighs weary Age, " I do remember well. 

And am content if quiet ease remain." 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 129 



THE HOLY LAND 

Men deem the shores of Jordan holy land, 
But why more holy than their native strand? 
Are not all countries one to him who knows 
Alike in all the flower of mercy grows? 



THE NEW MOMENT 

Be our effort what it may, 
Every moment still is new; 

Only when we use it well 
It reveals what we can do. 



AT LAST 

We once imagined what we now believe ; 

We now believe where knowledge waits for all. 
Stepwise we rise: From what eternal height, 

Long years to come, shall man, triumphant, 
fall! 



LEZE MAJESTY 

The Ten Commandments stand revised: 
" Take not the Kaiser's name in vain " — 

That awful name great England fears, 
France, Russia, and the mighty Spain. 



ISO POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE DEMOCRATIC JACKASS 

Behold a party emblem chosen well, 

A contumacious Jackass, dull of mind; 

And yet that emblem meets not all the case, 
For lo, the stupid beast is not stone-blind. 

RECRUITS 

On every corner : " Wanted, young men to en- 
list!" 
Pictures of ships, and soldiers in their colors 
bright. 
Entice the callow striplings, and away they 
march 
For some unworthy king or worthless flag to 
fight. 

RIGHT BETTER THAN PEACE 

FooLS cry for peace while cruel wrongs abound, 
And sing of love while hate survives; 

The thousand years of peace we shall not know 
Till right and justice change our lives. ^ 

il found, in brief, that all great nations learn their 
truth of word and strength of thought in war, that they 
were nourished in war and wasted by peace, taught by 
war and deceived by peace, trained by war and betrayed 
by peace, — in a word, that they were born in war and 
expired in peace. — Ruskin. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS ISl 



MEETING OF THE FREE-RELIGIOUS 
ASSOCIATION 

A Free-Religious farce of warring creeds and 
men, 

Wherein the Heavenly Vision none behold ! 
What boots it now which form of worship lives 

Since Love is dead, and all her altars cold? 



OPIUM 

Forbidden fruit ! Yet he who eats serenely lives, 
And where he will his tranquil soul may, dream- 
ing, dwell; 

Yet nevermore by light or gloom may he discern 
If he be safe in Paradise or locked in Hell. 



THE AMERICAN CHAUFFEUR 

What cared the chauifeur that a dozen folk he 
killed? 
Our laws are still more dead than are the men 
he slew. 
The wheelless rabble crowd the busy thorough- 
fare — 
There are too many men ; we well can spare a 
few. 



132 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



PROTECTION 

Ten thousand vast monopolies 
Stand trembling at the door: 

" We are such feeble folk," they cry, 
" Protect us, we implore." 



DISTANCE LENDS ENCHANTMENT 

Could I the evening star lay hold. 
Would it the evening star remain? 

'Tis not the thing we have we prize. 
But what we seek, and seek in vain. 



POLITICIANS 

God send us politicians by the score, 

A hundred thousand bosses, if not more; 

Their self-effacing spirit and their love of truth 

Inspire new virtues in the heart of youth. 



THE NIHILIST 

What would the hater of all lands and men? 

Himself! himself I and but himself alone! 
His cruel way to have, with one fell blow he'd 
wreck 

Both lowly cabin and the royal throne. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 13S 



LIKE CURES LIKE 

The laughter of the world rings thin 
Upon the heart that knows its grief; 

Tears are less sad to one who mourns, 
And sorrow is its own relief. 



RECANTATION 

So the bait be good I can recant, 

Believe in less or more ; 
For the boat must tack when strong winds blow, 

Or never reach the shore. 



VAIN SEARCH 

Men search the world for Christ, 
And scale the heavens above, 

Yet never in their hearts 

Discern His changeless love. 



TRUTH OR REPOSE 

We have one choice — 'tis truth or mean repose ; 
The sacred flower of wisdom only grows 
Far up the rugged steep and pathless height, 
While to repose the fragrant vales invite. 



184 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



ONCE 

A SINGLE night she curled her hair, 
And dreamed of golden ringlets fair; 
But once — ah ! that was why she failed, 
For never yet has " once " availed. 



THE TRUE BROTHER 

Thy brother is not thine by blood alone. 

But by the tender heart, and just, and true; 

Such dost thou know? To him cleave evermore. 
For brothers of the heart are far and few. 



POPULAR ROMANCE 

From out our minds how swift the stories slip, — 

It matters not ! 
The worthless stuff men print, and fools devour. 

Is well forgot. 



SPRING 

Resound once more the trumpets of the wind. 
And from her grave rejoicing Nature springs. 

Their robes of green the forests don ; sweet flow- 
ers 
Revive ; my raptured soul for gladness sings. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 135 



PEACE 

Dost long for peace to still life's deep distress? 
Thou must the Prince of Peace Himself possess 
His peace to have thou must the Giver take, 
Since it is thine alone for His dear sake. 



LIFE AND DEATH 

Life evermore is fed by death 

In earth, and sea, and sky ; 
And that a rose may breathe its breath, 

Some living thing must die. 



SOCIETY 

" 'Tis chop for chop," explained my lady friend, 
" You must invite or uninvited be ; 

One social chain in every function binds 
With inelastic fetter you and me." 



THE HALL OF FAME 

By numbering noses we have made men great, 
Glory bestowed where glory there was none. 

Consider this, aspiring sons of men : 

By votes conferred, fame is no longer won. 



136 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



AN HONORARY DEGREE 

The college gave him LL.D., 
It made him happy as could be ; 
And happy college ! for its share 
The fool endowed a Latin chair. 



MID-LIFE 

Through youth and lonely age 

Like beasts men go ; 
They only in mid-life 

True wisdom know. 



" MY LIFE IS WIND " 

Aee then the dead not dead? 

Or have the living life ? 
Man is like wind and tide, 

And all his days are strife. 



YOUTH ATTRACTIVE 

On the lips of Experience 

Lives the larger truth; 
Yet sweeter sounds the callow voice 

Of shallow Youth. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 137 



SELF-CONCEIT 

Stuong doubts of self the noblest minds dis- 
tress, — 
Great Shakespeare may have thought himself 
a fool; 
But Tupper, if he ever thought at all, 

Believed the world to him should go to school. 

THE LAND OF LABOR STRIKES 

" The Land of Freedom, ! " — 'tis a name the 
Sophomore likes. 

But truer name is this : " The Land of Labor 
Strikes ! " 

There is no reason Mike or Jake should work an 
hour ; 

They came not here to work, but only to de- 
vour. 

A NEW ENGLAND HOUSEWIFE 

Through all her life 'twas dust and only dust her 
thought engaged ; 
Some dust was real, but more her nimble mind 
supplied ; 
The poet's art she scorned, the painter's skill 
despised ; 
For dust she lived, and, dying, " Dust to 
dust ! " she cried. 



138 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



WHICH? 

The snow-white poppy or the green-leaved weed I 
the better, which? 
De Quincey loved the flower ; while in his Lon- 
don home Carlyle 
Consumed the fragrant weed. One calmly 
dreamed, the other growled: 
On both impartial Fame, the lovely girl, be- 
stowed her smile. 



EVERYWHERE IS PEACE 

The weary day declines in cool, refreshing night ; 
Along the hills the shadows deepen ; fades the 

light 
From out the quiet blue, and all at length is still. 
It matters little: day and darkness work God's 

will. 



THE ONE FAR ENDING 

Ai-L, roads, howe'er so much they wind, at last 
To one far ending come for saint and knave ; 

O'er rugged height and flowery vale they lead 
Our weary feet to darkness and the grave. 



LATER POEMS 



THRENODIA 

Winter all the world around ! 
Thought and feeling both are bound; 
Inelastic fetters hold 
Dreams and visions manifold. 

Burn the stars above our head, 
But the heavens themselves are dead; 
Flame the northern fires on high 
In a lifeless, frozen sky. 

Once the balmy air was sweet; 
Merry heart and eager feet 
Not the gods themselves could tire 
Ran on errands of desire. 

Long ago the song we slew, — 
Science said it was untrue; 
So we crushed the golden dream 
'Neath her plan, and plot, and scheme. 

Science bade us turn the eye 
Earthward from the crystal sky; 
Bade us in the dust abide; 
And for love she gave us pride. 

" Star-eyed Science " — vain the boast ! 

Blind to all we prize the most, 

She has darkened all the air. 

Filled our hearts with mute despair. 
141 



142 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Winter! winter everywhere! 
Field and forest all are bare; 
Living things have ceased to groW 
In a frozen world of snow. 

All the poets, they are dead; 
Few remember what they said ; 
Garlands deck no more the brow ; 
None believe their stories now. 

Once their laughter, lyric, sweet, 
Rang to dance of fairies' feet; 
Then along the azure sky. 
Up above us, wondrous high, 

We beheld Aurora's car — 
Morning-red with evening star; 
Heard old Triton blow his horn 
As one fragrant, rosy morn 

All the heavenly host above, 
Gods of laughter, song, and love, 
Filled the air with warmth and light, 
Filled our hearts with wild delight. 

Where are flown the fairies now? 
Once they danced 'neath every bough, 
Bathed in every mountain stream, 
Laughed and sang in every dream 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 14S 



Of enchanted nights gone by ; 
We could oft their forms espy, 
'Neath the silver light of moon, 
On the sedge and sandy dune. 

Now the world is drab and still ; 
Silence reigns o'er vale and hill; 
All the gods are dead, and we 
Nevermore their joy shall see. 

Now we live by weight and rule ; 
We, poor dullards in life's school, 
Learn the lore of " This and thus,"- 
Learn to question, doubt, discuss. 

Shorn of wings, we have the spade ; 
It must show us how was made 
Ancient beauty we despise. 
All the useless truths we prize. 

Man was made for dust and grime. 
Creature of the present time ; 
All the past forgotten quite ; 
All the future, hopeless night. 

Man was made to grub and crawl. 
Not to soar, but only fall; 
Man was made for goads and rods, 
Not to fellowship the gods. 



144 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Every master we call wise 
Feeds his soul on dust and lies; 
In his folly working hard, 
Scorning prophet, priest, and bard. 

Now to all fair things adieu ; 
Dead the beauty once we knew. 
We have facts, and facts alone ; 
Dull-eyed Use is on the throne. 

Winter ! winter everywhere ! 
Frozen are the lips of prayer, 
Dead the singers long ago 
In a world of frost and snow. 



HENLEY 1 

In old St. Paul's they placed his bust, — 

The bust that Rodin made to be; 
And then, at last, some praise they gave 
To one who heard not in his grave, — 
The oft slighted poet, Henley. 

Why is it that we never now 
With laurel crown the poet's brow, 
But always wait till he is dust 
Before we dream of being just? 

1 The bust of the poet William Ernest Henley was un- 
veiled in St. Paul's Cathedral, July 13, 1907. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 145 
AMERICA 

1870 

My Fatherland, thy hills I love, 

Thy noble rivers swift and deep, 
Thy meadows green, and valleys rich, 

Where browse the peaceful, meek-eyed 
sheep ; 
I love the fragrant flowers that bloom 

On every wayside where I roam: 
My Fatherland! my Fatherland! 

My ever dear and happy home ! 

I love the land that gave me birth, 

Where early by my mother's knee 
My childhood's prayer I learned to lisp, 

And learned as well God's love to see 
In bird, and flower, and leafy bough, 

In summer shower and winter snow ; 
The land by Pilgrim feet made dear; 

The land they hallowed long ago. 

I weary of the pomps of earth. 

The gauds and glories of the world, 
The kingly splendors, kingly power. 

And flags by tyrant hands unfurled ; 
I would forever gladly dwell 

Where floats the starry flag above. 
And in my Fatherland abide — 

The land, the land, the land I love. 



146 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



1913 

Alas, that heritage so great 

Should sink so low! should fall so far! 
That ancient night should blot from view 

A waiting world's bright morning star! 
Misrule, and crime, and love of self, 

The boss, the demagogue, the thief 
Have made our worthy pride a jest, 

Our day of glory all too brief. 

Where Honor held of old her sway, 

Where patriot hearts were fired with zeal, 
We blush our failure to disclose, — 

The shame we may no more conceal. 
For all the world our trust we held; 

With anxious heart, from far and near, 
Men watched our rising fortunes grow 

With much of hope, yet more of fear. 

When strife intestine filled our land. 

And state with state waged deadly war, 
To arms our fathers sprang, that so 

Our flag might float from shore to shore. 
Hearts leaped for joy to see it wave 

Again o'er mountain, field, and main: 
Alas, that later years should make 

So great a sacrifice so vain ! 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 147 



With flowers our soldiers' graves we strew, 

And still, " My country, 'tis of thee," 
Our children sing, and hoary sires. 

While dreaming yet that we are free. 
Our aching eyes we fain would close 

To scheming Wealth, and Labor too, 
That for their selfish ends contend, 

And our dear Fatherland undo. 

Alas, fair land that gave me birth. 

Where early by my mother's knee 
My childhood's prayer I learned to lisp. 

And learned God's love in all to see! 
Alas ! alas, thy ruined state ! 

Thine institutions stung to death 
By vampire broods that drink thy blood — 

Insatiate, suck thy very breath ! 



WILD ROSE 

Do I believe? lovely rose 
Outside the garden-close, 
Unplanted, wild, and free! 
How could I doubt His skill 
Whose love created thee? 
The fields are red with clover, 
And daisies star the lea. 
But not in all the meadow 



148 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Is flower so dear to me. 
'Tis in thy face forever 
His heavenly face I see 
Who made the garden roses, 
And left my wild rose free. 
Do I beheve ? O fairest of all prairie flow- 
ers, 
As winds believe in sea, 
As stars believe in midnight, 
So I believe in thee! 



TO JAMES B. KENYON 

Theee are, dear poet, on this earth 
Some souls that know your lyric worth; 
Some hearts that have not done you wrong. 
That throb responsive to your song. 

The long and weary years to come 

May find this cold world blind and dumb; 

But in those years, so far away. 

There shall be those who prize your lay. 

And I, who call myself your friend, 
Athwart the years these numbers send 
To tell those strangers far away 
I knew your lyric worth alway. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 149 



VENUS LAMIA 

Fierce flames fell on your brow upturned 

To meet th' eternal Night ; 
Immortal fire from heaven came down 

To make your dark eyes bright; 
Your cruel limbs, your shapely form, 

The high gods wrought their best; 
They stamped with kisses soft and sweet 

Their image on your breast. 

They formed your subtle nerves and veins, 

And bade your pulses swell ; 
They filled your breathing flesh with life, 

And shaped your spirit well. 
Then down the changing aisles of time 

With solemn chant they came. 
And to the sound of silver harps 

They syllabled your name. 



FREEDOM 

*' The truth shall make you free ! " 

Free ! — that is the very thing men fear. 

The houses of convention 

Are so warm and snug, 

There is such sweet delight and cheer 

Beneath the rafters of some old belief. 

Men will not venture into open air. 



150 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Yet just beyond the threshold blooms 
Bright world on world of fragrant flowers 
That wear the beauty of a cloudless day, 
And radiant splendor of a thousand stars. 
Their plumes of green the forests lift, 
Where, clad in crimson and in gold, 
From bough to bough the happy birds 
Sing to the listening ear of mom. 



FLOWERS OF SONG FROM MANY LANDS 

BEING SHORT POEMS AND DETACHED VERSES 

GATHERED FROM VARIOUS LANGUAGES 

AND RENDERED INTO ENGLISH 



PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION OF 
" FLOWERS OF SONG " 

The florist who gathered these " Flowers of 
Song " from so many gardens and conservatories 
in lands widely removed from each other, takes 
this opportunity of disclaiming originality. 
Some of these leaves, buds, and blossoms (for they 
are not all full-blown flowers, rich in beauty and 
fragrance) have been taken directly from the 
soil in which they grew ; but a much larger num- 
ber of them have come from reliable prose ren- 
derings. Some are as familiar as were the 
marigolds and hollyhocks of the old-fashioned 
gardens to our grandparents ; and some are not 
often seen in English collections. But each speci- 
men is in some way characteristic, and has its 
peculiar interest, when one considers soil and 
climate. If English readers find in these un- 
equal lines pleasure and profit for the passing 
hour, the florist will count himself well re- 
warded for all his labor. The turning of these 
verses into English rhyme has been the delightful 
entertainment of many an evening in the library. 

F. R. M. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM GOETHE 
I 

THE SONG OF THE SPIRIT OVER THE 
WATERS 

The soul of man 

Is like the water ; 

From heaven it cometh, 

To heaven returneth — 

Ever and forever changing. 

From lofty rocky walls 
Swift leaps the glowing flood ; 
Then in the valley spreads it gently 
O'er the rocks in cloudy billows, — 
Billows ever kindly welcomed, — 
Veils its murmur as it wanders 
Downward to the waiting deep. 

Cliffs projecting 
Oft oppose it ; 
Angry, foaming, 
Downward moves it 
Step by step. 

Now in smoother channels 

Through a flowery meadow winds it. 

Till, within the lake reflected, 

Gaze entranced the constellations. 
155 



156 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Wind Is the loving 
Wooer of the waters; 
Wind together blendeth 
The all-foaming billows. 

Soul of man, 
How like the water! 
Fate of man, 
How like the wind! 



II 
THE SPIRIT'S SALUTE 

On yonder castle, tall and gray, 
The mighty hero's spirit stands; 

A ship goes by — her wings are spread ; 
He speeds her on to other lands. 

" Behold what strength these sinews held ! 

This changeless heart, how brave and 
free! 
What knightly marrow filled these bones ! 

How smiled the glowing cup for me ! 

" To battle half of life I gave, 

And half In quiet peace was passed. 

O ship with living men, sail on ; 

The tranquil haven reach at last." 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 157 



III 



THE MASON'S LODGE 

The mason's ways 
Are a symbol of life, 
And his toil 
Resembles the strife 
Of man on earth. 

The future hides 
Gladness and sorrow; 
Stepwise to the sight, 
Yet undaunted, 
Ever on we press. 

Heavy and heavier. 

With reverence, 

Hangs the veil. 

Silent above rest the stars - 

Silent below the graves ! 

Consider and behold ; 
For, lo! there rise 
In the breasts of heroes 
Ever-changing awe 
And earnest feeling. 



158 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



From yonder call 
Voices of sages — 
Voices of masters : 
" Delay not to use 
The heritage of the good ! 

** Here are a-weaving^ 
In silence eternal, 
Crowns that with fullness 
Shall the active reward I 
We command thee to hope ! " 



rv 

CALM AT SEA 

'Tis still on the waters, 
No wind's on the sga ; 

The sailor is troubled. 
He longs to be free. 

No zephyr is breathing. 
The silence is deep ; 

The waves of the ocean 
Are buried in sleep. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 159 



THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE 

Intent on prey, an eagle spread 

His pinions wide in air, 

When swift the huntsman's arrow flew, 

And headlong downward to a myrtle grove 

The daring voyager of the sky 

Fell panting, filled with anguish and despair; 

And when three days and nights were gone, 

Kind Nature's balm, that heals all hurts, 

His fainting strength restored. 

The bird outstretched his wing, — 

Alas ! there was no longer power for flight — 

He scarce himself could raise 

From off the hard, unyielding ground 

To seize some mean, unworthy prey. 

With bursting heart, extended on a rock 

Hard by the rushing of a mountain stream 

Clear, sweet, and pure 

As are the blue o'er-bending heavens, 

With tearful eye he gazed through myrtle boughs 

To where two doves with soft and gentle flutter 

of contented wings 
Were resting from their humble flight. 
With strut and nodding head 
They wandered by the golden sand and pebbly 

shore. 
Or bathed their feet within the silver tide. 



160 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



How full their red-tinged eyes with love I 
How low and musical their cooing voice ! 
They paused — their vision fell 
Upon the stricken sovereign of the air, 
And, moved with pity, leaped the male, 
Complacent, on a nearer twig, and thus dis- 
coursed : 
" What sorrow fills thy breast ? What grief be- 
dews thine eye? 
Take comfort and good cheer, my friend, 
For in this forest deep all rare delights are found. 
Hast thou not here such boundless joy 
As may all memories of the sky efface ? 
Hast thou not gladness in the bending bough 
That fends thee from the sun's meridian heat ? 
And canst thou not thy breast uplift 
Upon the fragrant moss. 
And mark the sun's declining ray ? 
Here mayst thou wander through a world of 

flowers. 
And gather food from shrub and bush and tree, 
Or quench thy thirst at yonder bubbling spring. 
O friend, believe me this: 

'Tis sweet contentment fills the world with bliss — 
Be satisfied with that thou hast. 
And everywhere thou hast enough." 
Then spake the eagle as he sank in thought, 
" O wise one ! " — and he pondered what his ear 

had heard — 
*' O wisdom ! like a dove thou speakest ! " 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 161 

VI 
TWO THREATS 

Within a forest dark I sought 
A lovely maiden, fair and proud, 

And fondly clasped her neck, when, lo! 
She threatened : " I will cry aloud ! " 

With haughty speech I shouted then: 

" Who dares approach thee I will crush ! " 

She softly whispered, " Love, I fear 

They may o'erhear thee ! — darling, hush ! " 

VII 

MIRACLE 

When in this world a miracle is wrought, 
*Tis by the loving heart and not by thought. 

VIII 

WHEN TWO MEN QUARREL 

When two men quarrel, each with tongue aflame, 
Who hath the cooler head is most to blame. 



162 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

IX 
THE ERROR WE CLASP TO OUR HEART 

Other men's children we love with tender affec- 
tion and true, but not as our own: 

The Error we clasp to our heart that is blood of 
our blood and bone of our bone. 



COMPANIONSHIP 

Were I in heaven, and none in heaven but me, 
Not hell so sad a dwelling-place could be. 



XI 



EACH LIKES BEST THE PLACE WHEREIN 
HE LIVES 

So wisely hath the Lord framed these human 
souls of ours 
That each likes best the place where he doth 
dwell : 
Ask the lost spirits where Perdition is, they'll say 
in Heaven; 
Ask saints, they'll tell you 'tis in Hell. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 163 

XII 

THE BOUNDARIES OF HUMANITY 

When the primeval Father, 

Changeless and holy, 

Sows in His bounty, 

With free hand and tranquil, 

From the rolling clouds, 

Joy-diffusing lightnings 

O'er the wide earth. 

Then the last hem of His garment 

I kiss with childlike awe and devotion — 

My heart is filled with His homage. 

For never against the immortals 

May a mortal 

Measure himself. 

If heavenward he soar 

And touch with his forehead 

The stars in their courses, 

His feet, insecure, 

Shall find no abiding; 

Clouds and tempest 

Shall sport with his weakness. 

With limbs firm and sinewy 
Let him stand without tremor 



164 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Upon the green earth enduring, 
Content to resemble the oak or the ivy. 

How shall we distinguish 
The gods from men? 
Before them the billows, 
An infinite stream. 
Roll onward forever; 
Us a wave raises ; 
Us a wave swallows ; 
And we vanish. 
A little rounded link 
Encircles our life; 
Yet generations of mortals 
Weld themselves firmly 
To the unending chain 
Of human existence. 



XIII 

THE SOLDIER'S SOLACE 

In truth no lack is here I do believe : 

The bread is white, the maidens dark as eve ! 

Next night unto another town I go: 

Black is the bread, the maidens white as snow ! 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 165 

XIV 
TO A METAPHYSICIAN 

Over the azure sky 

Your cobwebs weave; 
I profit by my life, 

Nor stop to grieve. 



XV 
THE UNEQUAL MARRIAGE 

Ah, poorly matched were e'en the heavenly pair 
Celestial Psyche, spirit clear and free. 

New wisdom gained with every flying year ; 
But laughing Amor, still a child was he. 



XVI 
APPARENT DEATH 

Weep, maiden, o'er the lonely tomb of Love; 

He died of nothing who by chance was slain. 
But is he truly dead? — Ah, that I dare not say 

A merest chance might give him life again. 



166 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

XVII 
THE GOLDEN AGE 

Gone, is your Golden Age, my friend, 
Yet good men can that age restore; 
Or if the truth I now must speak, 
That age of which the poets sing 
In rapturous phrase was never here 
Save as it is with us to-day ; 
Or if it was, good men can still 
To-morrow bring that age again. 

XVIII 
ANACREON'S GRAVE 

Here where the roses are blooming, and laurel 

and myrtle entwine, 
Coos the white dove, and chirps the cricket 'neath 

bushes and vine; 
Whose grave have all the Immortals graced and 

decked with life evermore? 
Ah, here sleeps in a garden whom we mortals 

must ever adore! 
Wooed Anacreon's love, Summer and Autumn 

with rose and the grape, 
And now 'neath this mound doth the bard the 

chill winds of Winter escape. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 167 

XIX 

THE FAVORED BEASTS 

Four beasts by God's permission came 

To enter heaven's delight, 
And there with happy saints to dwell 

In never-ending light. 

Before them all the sacred ass 
Doth tread with joyous stride, 

For once into Jerusalem 
On him did Jesus ride. 

And next behold the timid wolf 

To whom Mahomet spake: 
" The poor man's sheep thou shalt not steal ; 

Thou mayst the rich man's take." 

And there the dog, so brave and leal; 

Two hundred years he stood, 
While seven Ephesian sleepers slept 

In holy brotherhood. 

There purrs Abuherrira's cat 

Beside the master blest. 
For holy must the creature be 

The Prophet hath caressed. 



168 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE ILIAD 

Fkom the sacred brow of Homer 

Tear the laurel wreath of song, 
Number all the ancient fathers 

Unto whom its leaves belong, 
Still one mother owns them wholly, — 

Mother Nature, they are thine ! 
Thine they were ere Homer knew them — 

By the right that is divine. 

SCHILLES 



THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 

O TRUST me, it is no mere fiction, the holy foun- 
tain of youth; 

In the sweet song of the poet it floweth in beauty 
and truth. 

SCHILLEB 



LILY AND ROSE 

Lily of white innocence, and sweet red rose. 

Two sisters side by side — alike 

And yet how different! 

O flower of purity and honor's crown. 

Thou need'st not leaves to shield thy form ; 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 169 



A silent virtue wreathed in fragrant beauty 
Guards thee well. 

But thou, O flower of passion — red, red rose — 
Young Cupid's blood thy veins distending, 
Thy heart so oft is pierced by love 
Thou needest thorns around thee. 

Herder 



SINGS THE BEE UNTO HER SON 

Sings the bee unto her son, 
*' Yonder waxen taper flee " ; 

But her precept and her prayer 
Trouble not the little bee. 

Round and round the glowing flame 
Hums and sings he all the night — 

Sings and hums and hums and sings, 
Caring not for mother's fright. 

All at once, with boundless rapture, 
In the flame he darts and cries : 

Upward leap the gleaming sparks; 
He in ashes sinks and dies. 

Sons of men, the lesson leani : 

Shun the fire of maidens' eyes; 

When they sparkle with delight 
He who trusts them surely dies. 

Heine 



170 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE BLIND PASSENGER * 

All night in a gloomy post-chaise 

We traveled far away ; 
Each leaned on the other's bosom, 

And happy hearts were gay. 

But soon the golden morning found us — 

What wonder filled our eyes ! — 

Amor, blind passenger, between us, 

Looked up in sweet surprise. 

Heinz 



THE PALM 

Dreams on the lonely height 

A pine tree clad in snow ; 
Around it icy winds 

In wild confusion blow : — 

Dreams of a graceful palm 

In the far southern land. 

In silent solitude, 

Mid wastes of burning sand. 

Heine 

1 Blind passenger, one who travels without paying fare. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 171 



SOME TO HOLY MARY KNEEL 

Some to Holy Mary kneel, 
Some to Paul and Peter; 

I my prayer alone to thee 
Send in rhyme and meter. 

Let my lips with kisses sweet 
Praise and serve thee ever; 

Fairest maiden 'neath the sun, 
Spurn my worship never. 



Heine 



WHEN THOU HAST WEDDED 

When thou hast wedded me, my love, 
Thy joy shall flow forever; 

Thou shalt be happy all thy days. 
And cease from pleasure never. 

I'll patient be with ev'ry fault. 

And even bear thy curses; 
But, truly, we must part if thou 

Shouldst e'er deride my verses. 

Heim^i 



172 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



HUMANITY 

Unnumbered years the hoary earth 
Her countless nations hath enrolled, 

And holocausts to gods hath raised 
From blood-red altars manifold. 



And years to come the raptured saint 
To God shall other altars rear, 

And sorrow still shall come and go, 
And joy the human heart shall cheer. 

It blinds me not I With love content, 
The ceaseless strife of Time I see; 

While changing empires rise and fall. 
Still onward moves Humanity. 

No day hath ever dawned, I know, 

That gladdened not one lonely breast; 

Nor Spring hath followed Winter drear 
But with a song the world it blessed. 



From out the ruddy wine, I know. 
The vast, creative thoughts arise; 

And in a woman's loving kiss 
A noble fount of vigor lies. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 173 



Where'er we go the heavens, I know, 

They frown with rage, or smile with joy; 

In every zone the stars serene 

Some loving eye with faith employ. 

So day by day and night by night 

One thought doth every heart possess ; 

Where'er on earth mine eyes are turned 
A brother's loyal hand I press. 



A link of that great chain which binds 

The future to the past am I ; 
From out the struggling surge I snatch 

The jewel of Humanity. 

KlKKEL 



ON DR. MEAD 

When Mead unto the lonely Styx was come, 
With trembling voice affrighted Pluto said: 

" Confound him ! once the sightless and the dumb 
He saved, and now he would restore the dead ! " 

Lessiko 



174 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



HYMN^ 

In life still death is here ; 

There is one common doom. 
Oh, how shall we prepare 
For a believer's tomb? 
Peace is of Thee alone, — 
Thou only canst atone 
The sins we grieve, and from Thy wrath 
Make us a path 
To heaven. 
O holy Lord and God ! 
Eternal Christ of God! 
Hear Thou our faltering breath! 
Spare us from endless death ! 
Kv/ot€ i\er](rov. 

In death the jaws of hell 
Against our spirits gape. 

1 This hymn by Luther is a rendering of the " Media 
in Vita'* of Notker, a devout and learned Benedictine of 
St. Gall, who died about 912. There is a tradition that 
he composed his ''Media in Vita" while watching work- 
men who were engaged in constructing the bridge at 
Martinsbruck at the peril of their lives. It was set to 
music and became very popular. Later a suspicion grew 
up in the minds of men that some of the lines had the 
power of exercising magical influences, and so the hymn 
was suppressed. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 175 



Lord God, wilt Thou not save, 
And grant us swift escape? 
'Tis Thou, dear Lord, didst win 
The conquest of our sin. 
And pity for our souls obtain ; 
Else hope were vain 
Of heaven. 
O holy Lord and God! 
Eternal Christ of God! 
Hear Thou our bitter cry! 
And save us ere we die ! 
Kvptc i\irj(Tov, 

In hell's dark midst, our sin 
Would drive us to despair. 
Oh, whither shall we fly? 

Where is our refuge, where.? 
Thy blood, O Christ, alone 
Can for our sin atone! 
'Tis in the holy rood to give 
The grace to live 
For heaven. 
O holy Lord and God ! 
Eternal Christ of God! 
Grant from Thy faith we all 
May never, never fall! 
Kvpic ikerjaov. 

MABTUr LUTHEB 



176 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE EVENING HOUR 

Ai/L day the restless feet of eager men, 

The ceaseless strife for gain and place and 
power, 
And then the gentle darkness cool and still, 
The calm refreshment of the evening hour. 

Fbom the Geemak 



HUMAN LIFE 

Perpetual strife 

Is the life 

Of mortal man. 

In the hot fire 

Of pain and desire 

Is unceasingly wrought 

On the forge of thought 

His being's end. 

Only at last 
Shall the furnace-blast, 
When he is old. 
Grow cold. 

Sweet th' toiler's sleep 
When shadows creep 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 177 



Through evening air, 
And everywhere 
Is rest. 

Then shall he scan 

The Master's plan, 

Designed 

In the all-forming mind 

From the first. 

From the German" 



GERMAN COURAGE 

The bards enchanting many songs have sung 
Through all the fair, sweet German land, 

But dies their music faint upon the air, — 
The bards themselves are 'neath the sand. 

But while the silver stars on high surround 
With wreaths of light the rolling earth, 

Stout German hearts will sing the German songs, 
And fill the German land with mirth. 

Though crumbling in the dust of time doth lie 
The ancient heroes' house so grand. 

Spring comes through every gate and hall to 
bring 
New charms to grace the German land. 



178 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



And where in death the heroes sink to rest, 
Fearless mid battle's deaf'ning rout, 

Youths spring undaunted to the German race, 
And fight the German battle out. 

ElCHEKDORF 



HYMN OF CONTRITION 

Deae Lord, the burden of my guilt is great, 

But greater is Thy mercy far ; 
Lead Thou me on to where the streams 

Of Thy divine forgiveness are. 

Accusing conscience bids me doubt. 
But Thou the Lord of conscience art ; 

Break the dark bondage of the past. 
And heal my wounded, trembling heart. 

now to Thee, and Thee alone. 

Thou bleeding Lamb for sinners slain, 

1 bring the guilt that weighs me down. 
Remorseful thoughts and inward pain. 

Speak Thou the gracious word of peace. 
And bid my rising fears decline. 

To Thee be all the glory given ; 

The endless gladness shall be mine. 

From the Germak 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 179 



HOW TO BECOME A SAINT 

In every human heart a herd of swine, 

With hoof unclean, and vile and greedy snout, 
Trample upon God's fragrant flowers divine. 
Wouldst be a saint ? Then drive the creatures 
out. 

From the Sakscbit 



RENUNCIATION 

What man doth once with all his heart renounce, 
By that no more he suffers pain; 

Anger and care, desire and discontent, 
His quiet soul assault in vain. 

He who hath slain the pride that saith, " 'Tis 



mine," 



5> 



Nor whispers, " I am thus and so,' 
Doth taste the deep repose Nirvana brings, 
And one to him are joy and woe. 

From the Sanscrit 



DISTASTE FOR LIFE 

Living in such a world, I seem to dwell 
A frog abiding in a dried-up well. 

From the Mahabharata 



180 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



TO MY PHYSICIAN 

Physician, cease thine effort! 

I speak and have no fear — 
Thou canst no longer save me; 

I know that Death is near. 

The flowers that blossom sweetly, 

In autumn fade and die; 
They bud and bloom and perish, 

And like the flowers am I. 

While life and strength sustain me 

I'm like the nightingale 
Whose glad notes wake the echo 

Through forest, hill, and dale. 

Shall I, at Death aff^righted, 

Complain that he is nigh; 
Or flee his dart in terror 

Who says that I must die? 

Full well I know the marksman, — 

All robed in steel is he, — 
And naught can change his arrow 

Since he hath chosen me. 

Physician, cease thy striving! 

I tremble not with fear — 
Thou canst not save me longer 

Since Death the Tyrant's here. 

Elizabeth Kulmanx 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 181 

REMEMBRANCE 

I THINK of thee 

In dreamy bowers. 
Where singing- birds 

Make sweet the hours; 
Where think'st of me? 



I think of thee 

By fountains deep^ 
When twihght fills 

The earth with sleep; 
When think'st of me? 



I think of thee 

With sweetest pain, 
And anxious tears 

I shed like rain ; 
How think'st of me? 



Oh, think of me 

Till we are one 
On some sweet star! 

Beyond the sun 
I'll think of thee. 

Matthisson 



182 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



SPIRITUAL EPIGRAMS 



Ah, yes ! I would a pho&nix be, 
And bum my heart in Deity! 
There should I dwell by His dear side, 
And in the self of God abide. 



II 

I DO believe there is no death; 

Though every hour I die. 
Yet every hour with new delight 

A better life draws nigh. 

Ill 

I HOLD that since by death alone 

God bids my soul go free, 
In death a richer blessing is 

Than all the world to me. 

IV 

O woNDERFUii is God I He wills whate'er He is. 

And is whate'er He wills — 
The whirling bliss goes round, and round, and 
ever round, 

And all His fullness fills. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 183 



Out from thyself, thyself depart ; 
God then shall fill thine empty heart. 
Cast from thy soul life's selfish dream — 
In flows the Godhead's living stream. 

VI 

Whqi loves, no law can ever bind; 

He'd cleave to God as well 
Were there no golden heaven's reward, 

And no dark cave of hell. 

VII 

The cross of Golgotha can never save 

Thy soul from deepest hell 
Unless with loving faith thou sett'st it up 

Within thy heart as well. 

VIII 

How far away is heaven.? Not far, my friend; 
One earnest step will all thy journey end. 

IX 

On me God's Spirit falls like dew upon a rose 
When I to Him my heart, like that sweet flower, 

unclose. 

Akgelus Silesius: "The Cherubic Wanderer" 



184 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE COST OF PROSECUTION 

The judge wants money, and the lawyer too, 
And when the long-protracted case is through 
There'll not a franc be left, my friend, for you — 
A franc? — they'll leave you not a sou. 

From the French 



ADIEU 

Adieu ! adieu, thou fair and cruel one ! 

'Tis done, thy scorn I little reck ! 
I haste me now love's burning grief to quench — • 

To hang? — Yes, round another's neck. 

From the French 



WOMAN'S SWORD 

The tongue is woman's sword, and to it she doth 
trust; 

By constant use she keeps it always free from 
rust; 

Deep in the heart of man she sheathes its glitter- 
ing blade; 

And, lo ! the mighty hero falls before a timid 

maid. 

From the French 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 185 



FRENCH PROVERB 

Would you surprise the timid ? Then be dumb ; 
Hares are not caught with the sound of a drum. 



FAITH 

Be like the little bird 

That for an instant stays 
Upon the topmost bough: 

The branch beneath him sways, 
But undisturbed he sings, 

All conscious of his wings. 

Victor Hugo 



THE HOPELESSNESS OF FOLLY 

The most egregious dunce send thou to any 

school, 
And after all he'll still remain a stupid fool. 

From the French 



THE LAST WORDS OF RABELAIS 

With scornful laugh at length the master cried, 
" I haste me to the Great Perhaps," and died. 

From the French 



186 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE WHISTLING DAUGHTER 

Whistle, my dearest daughter, and I will give 

thee a cow. 
Ah, no! my beloved mother, I cannot whistle 

now — 

Oh, I cannot whistle ; 
Ah, no ! my mouth it puckers so. 

Whistle, my charming daughter, and I will give 

thee a horse. 
Mother, I never whistled, and I could not now of 

course — 

Oh, I cannot whistle ; 
Ah, no ! my mouth it puckers so. 

Whistle, my gentle daughter, and I will give thee 

a sheep. 
Mother, I cannot whistle, so the creature you 

may keep — 

Oh, I cannot whistle ; 
Ah, no ! my mouth it puckers so. 

Whistle, my lovely daughter, and I will give thee 

a mnn. 
Mother, I never whistled, but I know right well 
I can — 

Whistle ! whistle ! whistle ! 
And so the whistling soon began. 

From the Dutch 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 187 



EPITAPH ON AGNES SOREL ^ 

Entombed here the fairest Agnes silent lies: 

More praise to her rare beauty be 
Than holy maids receive that dwell apart for 
heaven, 
Or hermits that to deserts flee ! 
Her radiant loveliness uplifted noble France ; 
Our chains fell off, and Freedom triumphed in 
her glance. 



Frakcis I. 



THE HAPPY MAN 



Behold! on all the earth 
A happy man is he 
To whom, with vision clear, 
From the deep wells of truth 
Th' eternal good proceeds. 

1 Agnes Sorel, Dame de Fromenteau, was one of the 
greatest beauties in the time of Charles VII. She lived 
five years in the service of the queen, during which time 
she enjoyed all the pleasures of life, in wearing rich 
clothes, furred robes, golden chains, and precious stones. 
Charles was greatly infatuated with her loveliness, as well 
as by her pleasing manners and agreeable conversation. 
He gave her the Castle of Beaute-sur-Maine, as well as 
several other estates. The king even neglected the care 
of his kingdom and all public business for the sake of the 
fair Agnes. She was very high-spirited; constantly re- 
proached him for his indolence, urged upon him the duties 
of his state, and roused him to take effective means to 
secure his crown. 



188 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



From off his mind the shades 

Like mountain mists dissolve; 

From fables hoar with age 

To him rich treasures come; 

The path to heaven he treads, 

And leads with gentle hand 

Our willing souls to God. 

From King Alfred's "Metres of Boethitjs' 

THE ASS AND THE FLUTE 

This is a fable 

You'll read at a glance ; 
It shows what may come 

From nothing but chance. 

There roamed in a field 

Quite near to the manse. 
An ass that had come 

That way by a chance. 

He followed his nose 

With pompous advance, 
And came on a flute 

Left there by a chance. 

The brute started back, 

And gave it a glance ; 
Then softly drew near, 

And snorted by chance. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 189 



The breath entered in, 

His soul to entrance; 
For — great his surprise — 

He blew it by chance. 

He cried as he viewed 

The flute in the grass: 
" Now who shall deride 

The skill of an ass?" 

Asses are many 

In life and romance 
Who once in a while 

Succeed by a chance. 

TOMAS DE YeiARTE 



A REVELER IN THE INN OF LIFE 

Through all the inn a voice cried, " Haste ! " 

And every scamp was up at once; 
There was one wretched fool so drunk, 

And such a witless, hopeless dunce. 
He could not stir a limb to bear him hence. 

The rest all fled and perished by the foe ; 
'Twas he alone survived who made no flight, 

Nor sought to hide from what he could not 
know. 



190 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



I may be drunk, I may be fool or worse 

In this poor inn that men call Human Life, 
But know I will not stir from where I sip my 
wine 

To die for naught in an unequal strife. 
Cry through the inn, thou Voice discordant, cry ! 

I laugh and drink and slumber still ; 
A dreamy dullness binds me life and limb, 

And seals the eyelids of my drowsy will. 

Feom the Spanish 



SONG OF THE WANDERING KNIGHT 

My ornaments are sword and spear, 
War is my pleasure near and far. 

My bed the cold green turf alone. 

My quenchless lamp yon trembling star. 

Long are my journeys through the day. 
Brief are my slumbers in the night; 

Thy spirit haunts me as I go; 
I kiss thy token with delight. 

From land to land I swiftly ride, 
And ever sail from sea to sea; 

And trust, fair lady, fate some day 
May bid these knightly lips kiss thee. 

Feom the Spanish 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 191 
SPANISH PROVERBS 



Through the street of Bj-and-by journeying 

forever, 
Slowly one comes at last to the house of Never. 

II 

Man is fire and woman tow, — 
The devil knows just when to blow. 



THE DIVINE PLAN 

'Tis the Almighty's gracious plan 
That man should be the joy of man. 

From the Scandikaviak 



DIVINE MERCY 

God sees me though I see Him not ; 
I know I shall not be forgot, 
For though I be the smallest dot. 
It is His mercy shapes my lot. 

From the Scandinavian 



192 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



ON MICHAEL ANGELO'S STATUE OF 
NIGHT 1 

LINES BY GIOVANNI STROZZI 

Thou seest the sleeping Night in grace reclin- 
ing,— 
An angel called her from the silent stone. 
She sleeps and therefore lives ; if doubt there be, 
Awake her now — She speaks ! and doubt is 
flown. 



1 When the statue of Night was exhibited for the first 
time, the following lines were found among the verses 
affixed to it, according to the custom of the time: 
"La Notte che tu vedi in si dolci atti 
Dormire, fu da un Angela scolpita 
In questo sasso, e perche dorme ha vita; 
Destala, se no 'I credi, e parlaratti." 
Angel and Angelo, as a part of Michael Angelo's name, 
allow a double meaning, which in this manner has been 
often used in his praise. The author was Giovanni Bat- 
tista Strozzi, one of the most decided adherents of the 
Medici, who had left the city in 1529, and had occupied 
himself in Padua, during the war, in scientific works. 

Michael Angelo made the statue itself reply to these 
verses. The poem runs thus: 

" Orato mf ^ 'I sonno, e pi'h V esser di sasso, 
Mentre che *l danno e la vergogna dura; 
Non veder, non sentir, tti' b gran ventura; 
Perd non mi destar, deh! parla basso!'* 

Geimm : " Life of Michael Akgelo " 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 193 



ANSWER BY MICHAEL ANGELO 

'Tis sweet to sleep, but better far In stone, 

For since, unaltered, loss and shame remain. 

Unconscious darkness crowns supreme delight ; 
Speak low, I pray thee, wake me not to pain. 

Fbom the Italian 



TO A FALSE LADY 

When softly gathered twilight o'er the silent 
air, 
And out from darkness rose the first bright 
star, 
A gentle lady came my solitude to share. 
I seemed to know her; and she was so heav'nly 
fair 
That, gazing, I was hers ; and, near or far, 
To honor her I followed where she went: and 

then — 
Ah well ! I only pray : " God give thee, when 
Thou art as I remain, the same sad plight 
With which thou didst unchanging love re- 
quite." 

From the Italiajt 



194» POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE ONLY PLACE OF REST 

Theee is no place where I may dwell 

And be at rest, 

But on Thy breast. 
O'er all the world sin's fatal spell 

Breathes shame and woe. 

Where'er I go 

'Tis always so, 
That if I tarry not with Thee, 
I nothing have, I nothing see, 

But tears and fears, 

And pain and bane. 
And war's rude clamor wild and fierce. 

To Thee, dear Lord, I swiftly fiy ; 

Thine open arms me welcome give; 
Without Thy dear embrace I die. 

But in Thy keeping love I live. 

When night and darkness terror bring. 

As flies the bird, so swift of wing, 

To the green shelter of some tree, 

Doth haste my trembling soul to Thee, 

For only on my Saviour's breast 

Is rest. 

Fbom the Italiak 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 195 



CHRISTMAS CAROL 

When Christ in Bethlehem was bom, 
The winter night seemed rosy morn; 
So bright the stars men thought 'twas day 
The world in golden beauty lay; 
And yet one star in splendor there, 
Than all the rest more heavenly fair, 
The Magi to the manger drew. 



Then holy peace o'er all the earth 

Proclaimed the blessed Saviour's birth; 

Together lamb and lion fed; 

Calf, wolf, and bear were gently led 

By little children; leopards lay 

Beside the timid kids all day ; 

There, fangless, basked the serpents too. 



As shepherds watched their flocks by night. 
Bright angels from the world of light 
With music filled the trembling air. 
And God Himself seemed everywhere. 
" Be not afraid," they cried, " for see ! 
It is God's holy Jubilee, 
With peace on earth, good will to you ! " 

From the Italian 



1D6 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE CARDINALS 

O YE Cardinals ! if ye have honest souls, 
Speak to His Holiness in the Vatican, 

And say : " There be many Princes of the 
Church, 
And lo, among them all is found not one man." 

They be like to lobsters, robes and faces red, — 
That's to say, when lobsters are well boiled, — 
and yet 
While living, backward through dingy night 
they crawl 
To tangle the meshes of Saint Peter's net. 

Francesco Dall' Onoaro 



IMMORTAL YOUTH 

My two-and-sixty years are flown. 

Swift years of sorrow and delight. 
And now my hair, no longer black. 

Is turned at last a silvery white; 
But ah, my heart still young remains. 

Unchanged by fortune foul or fair; 
And spite of frost and snow, I see 

The golden summer everywhere. 
Khushhal Khan of the Afghan Tribe of Khattak 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 197 



THE LIFE OF MAN IS AS THE DUST 

What are human hopes and fears? 
Why is thy heart elated or depressed? 
The dust beneath thy feet was once alive, 
And shall live many times again. 
The wind has flown, 
The dust is scattered. 
But the stream flows on. 
Man is as the wind, 
And life is like the dust. 
While on forever flows the stream of time. 
Khushhal Khan of the Afghan Tribe of Khattak 



MISGUIDED CHARITY 

Along the dusty road for food a lazy beggar 
sought ; 
A cucumber to him a tender-hearted stranger 
gave. 
" 'Tis crooked," cried the graceless rogue, and 
cast it in the ditch; 
" I would not eat the shapeless thing my 
worthy life to save." 

Turkish Saying 



198 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



TURKISH PROVERB 

Men catch fine fish, but, if we judge from what 

they say. 
That ahvays is the largest fish that swims away. 



ON A FLY ENGRAVED IN A GOLDEN 
DRINKING CUP 

In golden cup of sparkling wine 

I drew my latest breath: 
How could I ask a nobler tomb, 

Or crave a sweeter death? 

CUKRADINUS 1 



ON HOLBEIN'S HALF-LENGTH POR- 
TRAIT OF ERASMUS 

But half the mighty sage this canvas shows. 
Whom all the world with loving reverence knows. 
Why shows it not the whole? Sui'prise refrain — 
Him the wide earth could never quite contain. 
From the Latin of Theodore Beza 

1 Perhaps Henry Cunrad, a German physician of the 
seventeenth century. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 199 



THE PRIEST AND THE THIEF 

Beside a thief condemned there walked a pious 
priest 
Who near the gallows spake in solemn tone : 
" Thy grief repress ; have faith that with the 
angels thou shalt feast." 
Oppressed with fear, the wretched thief did 
groan : 
** If it be true, most holy father, be the honor 
thine — 
Take thou my place beside the festal board, I 
pray ! " 
" Nay, nay," the priest replied ; " my selfish na- 
ture would incline, 
But sacred vows forbid — this is my fasting 

day!" 

Georgius Salinus 



TRANSUBSTANTIATION 

If it be possible with " hoc est corpus meum " 

The Lord of glory into bread to change. 
That sinful men with cruel teeth should dare to 
pierce Him, 
Of all things seems the strangest of the 
strange. 

From Latik^ of the Fifteenth Century 



200 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



BONEFONII BASIUM XXIV 

Roses white and roses red 
In this chaplet sweetly shed 
Fragrance for my lady's grace: 
In the white behold my face, 
Pale and sick with love for you ; 
And the red, I swear 'tis true. 
Shows my heart on fire for you. 

From the Latut 



BALAAM'S ASS 

Balaam's ass beheld the shining angel stand 
With flaming sword his path before; 

The prophet, blinded by his sinful heart. 
Saw but the ass and nothing more. 

From Latin of the Fifteenth Century 



FOOLISH WORDS 

What women to their lovers say I count an idle 

dream, 
Well written on the passing wind and on the 



flowing stream. 



Catullus 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 201 



AD MINISTRUM ^ 

The Persian garlands please me not, 
Nor chaplets tied with linden-rind; 

Then ask no more where dwells the rose, 
In wreaths around the head to bind. 

Add naught to simple myrtle leaves; 

No roses in the hair entwine ; 
The myrtle crown becomes me well, 

And suits me quaffing 'neath the vine. 
Horace, Liber 1, Ode 3S 



SOCRATES 

Great Socrates, the wisest and the best of men. 
Was not ashamed that Alcibiades of old 

Should find him with the children, and astride a 

stick, 

Or wild with noisy sport as in the dust he 

rolled. 

Latik Anthology 

1 Horace had probably invited some of his friends to 
supper, and his slave was making an extraordinary prepa- 
ration for their entertainment. The ancients used to 
crown their heads with myrtle at their feasts, not only 
because they thought that it dispelled the vapors of their 
wine, but because it was sacred to Venus. — Lamb. 



202 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

EPIGRAMS FROM MARTIAL 
I 

IMPROMPTU VERSES 

WHY, my Stella, so severe a task? 
Impromptu verses at the feast you ask. 
But since you thus insist, I must comply ; 
And if they're poor, you know the reason why, 

II 
TO AVITUS 

Of all these epigrams a few are good, 
And some are fair, and others bad; 

No other way, my dear Avitus, could 
So large a book as this be had. 

Ill 

TO AFRICANUS 

In gold and silver Africanus rolls. 

And seeks for more from rise to set of sun. 

To some great Fortune gives too much; alas! 
That wayward goddess gives enough to none. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 203 

IV 

TO PELLA 

Send not fresh roses by the morning breezes 
fanned, 

But roses that have known the pressure of your 
hand. 



THE COOK 



'Tis not enough to have the art 

Savory dishes to prepare ; 
The cook must know his master's heart, 

His ev'ry wish and taste must share. 



VI 

ON SOME SCULPTURED FISH 

Behold those fish by Phidias made, in yonder 

marble rim; 
So perfect are they, should you give them water 

they would swim. 



204 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

VII 
AN INSECT IN AMBER 

Upon an unsuspecting ant a drop of amber fell, 
When, lo ! the insect we so oft despise 

Is changed, as by a sudden stroke of light, into 
a gem 
We more than gold of Ophir seek and prize. 

VIII 
TO PONTICUS 

You maim your slave and, fired with rage, his 
honest tongue cut out ; 

But what he can no longer whisper, all the neigh- 
bors shout. 

IX 

TO iERNITIANUS 

Art poor? Alas 1 I fear thou'lt ever thus re- 
main. 

For riches to the rich are giv'n, and gifts for 
gain. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 205 



ON FABULLUS i 

Sweet the fragrance — much it pleased 
me, — 

But I nothing had to eat; 
He is Hke a corpse, anointed, 

Who hath perfume for his meat. 

XI 
ON QUINTUS 



« 



QuiNTUs loves Thais " — what ! — that squint- 
eyed, one-eyed girl? 
By mighty Jove, the fellow's far more blind 
than she! 
For Thais wants one eye, but Quintus • — he 
wants two : 
His foolish love for Thais proves he cannot see. 

1 Fabullus had given an entertainment at which all the 
guests were provided with perfumes, and no food. 

With lace bedizen'd comes the man, 

And I must dine with Lady Anne. 

A silver service loads the board, 

Of eatables a slender hoard. 

"Your pride and not your victuals spare; 

I came to dine, and not to stare." 

Dr. John Hoadly 



206 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



A LOVER'S WISH 

O THAT I were an evening breeze ! 

I'd kiss my lady's trembling breast; 
With love her every wish I'd please, 

And soothe her heart in dreams to rest. 

O that I were a fragrant flower 

Her gentle hand had softh'- pressed ! 

I'd give my life for one glad hour 
Of sweet repose on her dear breast. 

From the Latik 



THE BEST COUNTRY 

That is the best of all countries where 
One lives with the least trouble and care. 

Aristophakes 



AN ORACLE OF THE PYTHIAN 
PRIESTESS 

Enter with holy heart the pure God's temple 

now; 
But touch the virgin water, clean art thou; 
A single drop the pure will cleanse — not all the 

sea 
From sin can wash the guilty conscience free. 

Froji the Greek 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 207 



LINES 

Thou boldest still thy virgin flower 

So close it hath no light of love, 
As though against it men were leagued, 

And all the heavenly powers above. 
But know that tender flower shall fade, 

And, on the sad and lonely shore 
Where break the silent waves of death. 

We shall be dust and love no more. 

Altered from Asclepiades of Samos 



THE NOBLEST GIFT 

A MIND from every evil thought set free 
I count the noblest gift of Deity. 

iEsCHYLUS 



MORTALITY 

Thou art a mortal man by human frailty girt, 

'Tis this the sum of wise philosophy to learn; 
To-day thou rul'st a mighty empire with thy 
frown, — 
To-morrow, crownless, shalt thou fill the fu-* 
neral urn. 

Mexakdeb 



208 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



CURES FOR LOVE ^ 

Sharp pangs of hunger may love's raging fever 
cure, 
Or years of absence passion's fury alter, 
But if the flame bum on thou canst no more en- 
dure, 
Why, friend, I do advise thee buy a halter. 

Crates of Thebes 



A GREEK EPITAPH 

Delicious wines, with fragrant baths and love, 
More sweet than honey are to mortal taste ; 

But o'er the road to Hades, deep and dark. 
Onward by day and night man's soul they 
haste. 

1 Interesting in this connection is Tennyson's amusing 
epigram, entitled "The Skippikg-Rope" : 

Sure never yet was Antelope 

Could skip so lightly by. 
Stand off, or else my skipping-rope 

Will hit you in the eye. 
How lightly whirls the skipping-rope! 

How fairy-like you fly ! 
Go, get you hence, you muse and mope; 

I hate that silly sigh. 
Nay, dearest, teach me how to hope, 

Or tell me how to die. 
There, take it, take my skipping-rope, 

And hang yourself thereby. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 209 



EPITAPH FOR TIMON, THE 
MISANTHROPE 

I WARN thee, passing stranger, come not near 
this fatal tomb ! 

Sharp stakes and thorns conceal them where de- 
ceitful roses bloom! 

I, Timon, hater of mankind, dissolved in dust, still 
cry: 

" I curse thee, whosoe'er thou art : Curse me, 
and then go by." 

Heoesippus 



EARTH TO EARTH 

From clay I sprang, and Death shall yet com- 
mand: 

" Go, s.ilent dust, and under clay recline ! " 
So all I ask of mortal man is this, — 

A simple cup of clay and bright red wine. 

DiODORUS ZOKAS 



THE FLIGHT OF TIME 

Unto the happy one life's golden hours are swift 

and brief, 
But longer than eternity's a night to one in grief. 

From the Greek 



210 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE USELESSNESS OF LABOR 

From out the earth I naked sprang, 

Thus to the earth I go; 
And since at last I nothing have, 

Why should I labor so? 



Paixadas 



THE GIFT OF THE MUSES 

With old Herodotus one day the Muses came to 

dine; 
And when they left th' historian's board all gay 

with sparkling wine. 
They gave him — 'twas a priceless gift from the 

immortal Nine — 

The peerless books that evermore his name with 

theirs enshrine. 

Fbom the Gbeek 



APHRODITE 

Paris has seen me naked, Anchises and Adonis 

too, 

But when did the great Praxiteles my undraped 

beauty view? 

Geeek Anthology 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 211 

EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF 

Let all the world, 
To ruin hurled, 
Be wrapped in fire 
When I expire. 

Greek Anthoidot 

LOVE IN OLD AGE 

Let others boast of charms divine, 
The agile step and graceful air; 

More lovely is thy wrinkled face, 
And threads of silver in thy hair. 

I'd rather fold thee in my arms 

Than press the sweetest maid that lives; 
Thy winter brings more warmth of love 

Than all her youthful summer gives. 

Paulus Silektiarius 

PLATO'S EPITAPH 

Here rests the sacred Plato's silent dust : 
With godlike heroes dwells his soul, we trust. 

Speusippus 



212 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



AFTER THE FEAST 

When we the flowing bowl at evening drain, 
A kindly human feeling cheers the feast ; 

But when comes round the morning houi again, 
Each genial friend becomes a raging beast. 

AUTOMEDOK 



EPITAPH FOR THE SIBYL HEROPHILE 

Draw near and view the tomb where molders now 

A Sibyl once inspired with voice divine; 
Relentless Fate hath choked that voice with dust, 
Yet near the sculptured Nymphs she doth re- 
cline, 
And where the marble Hermes all the day 
Holds sacred ward above the virgin clay.^ 

From the Gbeek 



GREEK EPIGRAM 

If it were true, as some have boldly said, 
That in the grave the wise and mighty dead 
Have sense and knowledge sacred things to seize, 
I'd hang myself to see Euripides. 

1 She was entombed near a marble fountain whereon 
were carved Nymphs and a Hermes. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 213 



THE WHITE COWS TO MARCUS 
CMSAR^ 

The white cows Marcus Caesar hail with heavy 
sigh, 

And say, " Alas ! when thou hast conquered we 
must die." 

Fbom the Greek 



HOMERIC COUPLET 

Asked and unasked, thy heavenly gifts unfold! 
And evil, though we ask it. Lord, withhold. 



ON THOSE WHO FELL AT 
THERMOPYL^ 

Great glory thus it is to bravely die 
Upon thy holy field, Thermopylae: 
Above our dust an altar rear divine. 
Since sacred Greece and Liberty are thine. 

Greek Epitaph 

1 The meaning of this epigram is obscure, but it doubt- 
less expresses a fear on the part of certain white cows 
that should Marcus be victorious they must be slain for 
sacrifice. 



214 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

GREEK EPITAPHS 



I, DiONYSius of Tarsus, lie here after a long and 

weary lot; 
I never married, and I swear 'twere better had 

my father not. 

II 

After eating, drinking, and living all my wicked 

life, 
Here I, Timocreon of Rhodes, now rest from 

further strife. 



LAIS DEDICATES HER MIRROR TO 

VENUS 

Once at Greece proud Lais mocked. 

With gay lovers laughed all day ; 
Now these lovers come no more, 

Mirth and song are passed away. 
Venus, take this glass from me, 

Since I old and wrinkled grow ; 
V^hat I am I would not see, 

What I shall be would not know. 

Plato the Philosopher 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 215 



TRUE RICHES 

Far richer he who dines on simple herbs, 

And knows the sweet delight of perfect health, 
Than knaves and fools who sip their crystal 
wines, 
And trust the glitter of deceitful wealth. 

Hesiod 



UNDER A WINGED CUPID 

'Tis vain to haste when Love pursues, 

He is so nimble and so fleet; 
He darts like lightning through the air, 

For he has wings, — thou, only feet. 

From the Greek 



THE DEADLY PRESENCE 

No fatal herb to Aristagoras did Agis give; 
He merely entered and his host was dead. 
Ye coffin makers, pelt this living aconite with 
flowers ; 
With rosy chaplets crown his mighty head. 

Hedylus 



216 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE COMMON DOOM 

Here lies a sailor — there a plowman rests ; 
One common doom the sea and land invests. 

Plato the Philosopher 



INSCRIPTION OVER A TEMPLE 

Of chastity let him who enters here be sure; 

And he alone is chaste whose secret thoughts are 

pure. 

Greek Anthology 



TO A MURDERER 

In vain you hide my bleeding corse from human 

sight. 

Since God beholds you through the darkness of 

the night. 

Greek Anthology 



DIOGENES 

A STAFF, and a scrip, and garment folded twice 
Were the light load of Diogenes the wise. 

Leonidas 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 217 



CONSCIENCE 

Honest men to law will never go ; 
Conscience is the only court they know. 

Antiphakes 



ARISTOPHANES 

The Graces sought a sacred shrine 

For songs of love and peace ; 

And, lo! they found it in the soul 

Of Aristophanes. 

Greek Anthology 



ENVY 

Envy with deadly sting her own base self de- 
stroys ; 
The sight of others happy is the poison she 

employs. 

Gbeek Anthology 



COUNSEL 

Slow-footed counsel with true wisdom rings ; 
Advice that's swiftly giv'n repentance brings. 

LUCIAN 



218 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



EQUALITY IN THE GRAVE 

Manes when living was a humble slave, 
But Death hath crowned his brow ; 

And in the grave, great King Darius, know 
That slave's as great as thou. 

Anyte of Teoea 



THE MISER'S GRIEF 



The miser wept, but not because he feared the 

grave, — 
'Twas that he would the money for his coffin save. 

NlCARCHUS 



THE TYRIAN LANDSCAPE 

Furrows the calm main 

The Tyrian sailor with his oar. 

And the plowman, the green soil 

By the sylvan shore. 

The lowing of the oxen, 

And the bird's song sweet and free, 

Answer the deep roar 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 219 



Of the tideless sea. 

Under green boughs 

The wood nymph, reclining, 

Hears the voice of the sea nymph 

In love songs repining. 

The breezes from Lebanon, 

Laden with perfume, 

The tree-tops caress, 

And their journey resume; 

Fanning the cheek of the rustic, 

Weary with labor at midday. 

And speeding white sails 

As they glide far away. 



NONNUS 



RICHES ACQUIRED IN OLD AGE 

Want and hunger cursed my youth. 
Sixty brings me wealth and fame ; 

Miserable lots are both, — 
Either way it is the same: 

Now that I have golden treasure 

I've nor heart nor taste for pleasure ; 

When I could have known delight 

I was in a sorry phght. 

Fbom the Greek 



220 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE STUPID BRAHMIN 

The heavenly gods on Devasarman smiled, 

And gave him rice the holy feast to keep; 
Unto a potter's shop he fled and there, 

His rice beside, the Brahmin fell asleep. 
The plate to shield from hungry dog and thief, 

A stick he held within his lazy hand; 
And, slumber folding all his soul in dreams, 

His future life from year to year he planned: 
" This plate of rice ten cowries it shall bring, 

And I will buy me pots and kettles rare. 
And these I'll change for betel-nuts and dress 

Till I shall roll in wealth beyond compare. 
Four wives I'll marry — lovely w^omen all, — 

And on the youngest shall my gold descend ; 
The three, with hatred moved, will quarrel make. 

And with this stick I'll cause their wrath to 
end." 

The growing thought his drowsy soul possessed — 

He seized his staff, and round and round it flew ; 
The plate of rice in fragments fell apart. 

And pots and kettles old and new. 
The master heard the din — in breathless rage he 
ran. 

The stupid Brahmin seized and thrashed him 
well. 
The dream was gone, the plate of rice and all, 

And in a swoon the stupid Brahmin fell. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 221 



Ye sons of men, the useful lesson learn: 

Who wisely lives the present moment serves, 

And he who spends his strength in idle dreams 
The stupid Brahmin's hapless fate deserves. 

From the Hitopadesa 



SANSCRIT COUPLETS 



Speak no word thy secret heart denies ; 
With his tongue he slays his soul who lies. 

II 

More fragrant is the ancient sandal tree, 
And wiser seems the aged man to me. 

Ill 

As running water cleanseth bodies dropped 

therein, 
So heavenly truth doth cleanse the secret heart 

from sin. 



IV 



Never rejoice, O friend, at the death of a foe; 
Swiftly thy life to the same deep sea doth flow. 



222 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE TRUE GIFT 

Not costly gifts with Heaven so much prevail, 
When they for future recompense are made, 

As some mere trifle, set apart in faith, 

And won with loving heart in honest trade. 

From the Mahabharata 



THE PRESENT HEAVEN 

Look not beyond the stars for Heaven, 

Nor 'neath the sea for Hell ; 

Know thou who leads a useful life 

In Paradise doth dwell. 

Hafiz 



THE APPOINTED HOUR 

No child of man may perish ere his time ar- 
rives, — 

A thousand arrows pierce him, and he still sur- 
vives ; 

But when the moment fixed in Heaven's eternal 
will 

Comes round, a single blade of yielding grass may 

kill. 

From the Mahabharata 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 223 



THE HELPFUL DRUG 

The helpful drug the patient's pain doth ease. 
And not the quack's wise name for his disease. 

From the Hitopadi^sa 



THE CREATION OF SEX 

From dead and senseless earth Almighty God 

created man, 
But woman made He from man's body by diviner 

plan. 

And thus on earth began the wondrous miracle of 

sex, 
The human heart to fill with j oy , the empty head 

to vex. 

Man was the first in dim creation's dark and an- 
cient line; 

But woman is the softer, sweeter, clearer, more 
divine. 

The Lord from inorganic earth made man for toil 

and strife, 
And molded then from living clay young Adam's 

lovely wife. 

Oriental (from Ruckert) 



224 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



SUNRISE 

Behold the morning ! Rise, O youth, 
And fill thyself with rosy wine: 

From the crystal cup of dawn 
Drink the glowing draught divine ! 

Omab Khayyam 



THE UNITY OF FAITH 

KiNE are of divers colors, but they all milk the 

same; 
Altar flowers are not alike, but worship is one 

flame; 
Systems of faith may differ with every changing 

zone, 
But God, unchanging ever, remaineth God alone. 

Vemana 



THE BRAHMIN'S DELIGHT 

Two things the noble Brahmin's heart delight : 
A friend whose love is always warm and true. 

And holy songs from sacred volumes learned; 
He lives contented who may claim the two. 

Fbom the Sanscrit 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 225 



THE PRAYER OF A PERSIAN 

Unto the sinful evermore Thy boundless mercy 

show, 
For Thou didst bless the good, O Lord, when 

Thou didst make them so. 



THE HOUSE OF GOD 

Prone upon the earth in prayer the weary N^- 
nac fell, 
Filled with all blessed thoughts of God ; 

Turned toward the sacred Mecca were his dusty 
feet. 
And rested on the soft green sod. 

When, lo! there passed a saintly Moslem priest 
that way, 

And cried, " Base unbeliever, dost thou dare to 
pray, 

Thy graceless feet extended toward God's city 
fair? " 

But Nanac thus made answer, " Is not every- 
where 

God's city.? Find, if thou canst, the accursed 
spot 

Where, crowned with deathless praise. His holy 

house is not ! " 

From the Persian 



226 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

PERSIAN COUPLETS 



They always win the golden day 
Who listen much, and little say. 



II 



Chain cruel Anger, lest, when free, 
With iron fetter he bind thee. 



Ill 



When desire ceases, instability disappears ; 
And buried under one deep sea are human hopes 
and fears. 



IV 



Sun, moon, and stars are a heavenly token 
From One whose holy name must not be spoken. 



The holy prophet Zoroaster said, 
" The Lord who made thy teeth shall give thee 
bread." 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 227 



VI 



With wild and angry foam, and loud deep roar, 
Old Ocean casts her pearls upon the shore. 



VII 



No earthly task is ever wisely wrought 
By hand reluctant or unwilling thought. 



ENVY PURSUES THE FRUITFUL 

Rejoice, O my soul, and be glad. 
When Envy speaks evil of thee! 

Sticks, and stones, and clods of the field 
Are cast at the fruit-bearing tree. 

From the Persian 



WHAT NEED OF SACRED HOUSE? 

All forms of faith one holy object have; 

All men the Loved One seek with constant care ; 
And since the world is Love's fair dwelling-place, 

Why talk of mosque or sacred house of prayer .f* 

Hafiz 



228 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



FAME 

In Caesar's palace, lo ! the spider weaves her web ; 
The lonely owl doth guard the tower of Afrasiab. 

Saadi 



THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS 

One balmy day in gentle June, 

While sporting in my bath so free, 

In came a friend with perfumed clay, 
And gave the fragrant mass to me. 

" Art thou of musk or ambergris ? 

Thou art like both: I cannot tell 
Whence comes the charm, but this I know, 

I am delighted with thy smell." 

" I was a piece of worthless clay 
Until the blooming rose I knew, 

For by its side I drank delight. 

And drank its heavenly fragrance too. 

" But for that rose I should be still 
Mere worthless clay for idle ends ; 

Learn well the lesson I impart — 

Be careful in your choice of friends." 

Saadi 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 229 



THE SUMMARY OF THE LAW 

Think purely, O thou heart of mine, 

Turn from Ahriman away! 
They only Ormazd shall behold 

Who walk in perfect day. 

Speak purely, O ye mortal lips. 

From wrath and falsehood turn away ! 

They only Ormazd shall behold 
Who nothing evil say. 

Act purely, O thou form of flesh, 
From lust and anger turn away ! 

They only Ormazd shall behold 
Who holy lives display. 

From the Pebsiax 



THE END OF TYRANNY 

Swift as resistless desert winds life's changing 

seasons fly; 
The saddest sorrows and the sweetest joys of 

earth must die; 
Vainly the cruel tyrant seeks to bind us with his 

chain, — 
His angry rage shall pass us by, and on himself 

remain. 

From the Persian 



230 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE DIVINE DEMAND 

God will not seek thy race, 

Nor will He ask thy birth ; 
Alone He will demand of thee, 

" What hast thou done on earth? " 

Feom the Pebsiak 



MAJNUN'S LOVE 

Majnun's love was not of earth alone, — 
Changeless with sacred truth it shone; 
A mortal raised the glowing flame, — 
From Heaven the inspiration came. 

From the Persian of Nisami 



THE SUPREME EMANCIPATION 

Unto one sick, his fond disciple cried: 

" To what, O Master, doth thy heart aspire? " 

And thus the sage replied: 

" Only to be emancipated from desire ; 

For when the belly hath no ease from pain. 

But suffers — first from pangs of hunger, then 
again 

From food — what comfort hath the spirit or the 

brain ? " 

Saaoi 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 231 



THE SAINT'S REPLY 

Untoi a saint a mighty monarch said: 
" How often dost thou think of me? " 

The holy man made answer thus : " O King, 
When I forget the Lord I think of thee." 

Saadi 



INTOXICATION 

Whom the ruby wine doth intoxicate 

Shall sober when the fumes are blown away ; 

But whom the cupbearer doth intoxicate 
Shall sober not until the judgment day. 

Saadi 



TRUTH AND LIES 

LovEST thou the truth? Hold the bridle well in 
hand. 

Thinkest thou the truth? With one foot in stir- 
rup stand. 

Speakest thou the truth? Discard thine arms, 
get thee wings. 

But if thou liest, this is truest of all things : 



232 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Mirtsa SchafFj saith, " Thou shalt be wholly 

stript, 
And soundh^, yet not without some mercy, 

whipt." 

From the Persian of Mirtsa ScHAFrY 



HYMN TO A STAR 

TisTRA, star of heaven, we praise thee — 
Ever glowing bright and clear ; 

All the world is filled with beauty 
When the darkness brings thee near. 

Like the burning eye of Mithra, 
Pure as crystal waters are, — 

From the soul of Zarathustra 
Shine upon us from afar. 

With thy silent torch illumine 

All the darkness of the way ; 
Guard our hearts and lips from evil. 

And restore us when we stray. 

Holy star, we praise, adore thee. 

Fadeless glory of the sky! 
Never shall thy radiant beauty 

Nor thy sacred worship die. 

From the Persian 



POEjVIS and translations 233 



MUCH IN LITTLE 

In the eye of a gnat an elephant sleeps, 
Thousands of harvests the corn-kernel keeps, 
A dewdrop the banished Euphrates doth hold, 
And a mustard-seed doth the Almighty enfold. 

From the Persian 



GAIN STRENGTH BY HELPING OTHERS 

Distress not with thy troubles other souls. 
Since life hath thorns enough for all; 

With kind and tender heart and helpful hand. 
Gain strength by lifting those who fall. 

Saadi 



AL CAWTHAR 

Ai. Cawthar makes the desert where it flows 
To blossom forth in fragrance like the rose ; 
Down rocky steeps it falls in living showers 
To fill the Persian land with fruit and flowers. 

From the Persian 



234» POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



FRUITLESS ENDEAVORS 

Two men their trouble take in vain : 
The one whose wealth brings only pain, 
And he who far for wisdom goes, 
Yet doth not practice what he knows. 
Scant comfort doth man's wisdom earn 
If still he doth all virtue spurn. 
Load thou with books of every size 
Thy beast : they will not make him wise. 
His empty skull knows not if he 
Bear book or firewood, friend, for thee. 

Saadi in " The Gulistak " 



THE PRAYER OF A RAIDER 

O Master of all living men, 

Pity my sore distress! 
May I the armed foe destroy. 

And many scalps possess; 
Wing thou the flying arrow so 

That death may follow swift; 
Horses and plunder may I have, — 

The great Wohkonda's gift. 
Before thee now, great Lord of lords, 

A lonely raider stands — 
All lives, and scalps, and horses too. 

Are in thy mighty hands. 

Fro3i the Osages 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 235 

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ARABIC 

I 

DIVINE CONTEMPLATION 

One hour of silent contemplation far outweighs 

External worship, lengthy prayers, and empty 

praise. 

Attributed to Mahomet 

II 
THE TRUE COUNSELOR 

He alone can counsel give, 

Of all his tribe, 
Whom death cannot affright. 

Nor treasure bribe. 

Ill 

" LET NOT THE MAN WHO SOWS THORNS 
WALK BAREFOOT" 

Would you become a liar ? — Then remember 

well, 
Lest in some thoughtless hour the honest truth 

you tell. 



» 



236 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

IV 

THE FOOL'S FLIGHT 

He fled from the beating rain without, 
And sat down under the waterspout. 

V 

THE PENITENT THIEF 

The thief, when guards are round about the 

door, 
Doth bless the Lord and say, " I steal no more. 

VI 
TRUE GENEROSITY 

He only is generous 

Whose gift, 
By a willing hand proffered. 

Is swift. 

VII 

SCANT HOSPITALITY 

God bless the man and spare him grief 
Who kindly makes his visit brief. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 237 

VIII 
THE UNHALLOWED DEAD 

If the winding-sheet be ragged and old, 
The corpse-washer be one-eyed and mean, 

The bier be broken, and the burial-ground salt. 
The dead then belongeth in hell I ween. 

IX 

THE COQUETTE 

She who kindles the flame of fierce desire 
Cries at the first advance, " Fire ! fire ! " 



THE ENVIOUS CAMEL 

Of Heaven the vain and foolish camel sought 

A wide and branching horn, 
But Allah clipped its loose and dangling ears, 

And laughed the beast to scorn. 

Learn thou the lesson, envious one, — 

Unvalued gifts depart; 
Wisely cherish what thou hast to-day 

With calm and quiet heart. 



238 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

XI 

ALL THE SAME AT LAST 

Both swift and tardy feet 
At the same ferry meet.^ 



XII 



WHO HATH MUCH CAN RESIGN THE 
LITTLE 

He upon whom the full moon doth shine 
Can the twinkling stars of heaven resign. 



XIII 
DECEIVED BY APPEARANCES 

Intqi his one remaining eye a splinter sank, 

And quenched its sight; 
He merely smiled, and bowed, and said with gentle 
tone, 

" My friend, good night ! " 

1 Boats on the Nile wait a long time for passengers. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 239 

XIV 

PILGRIMAGE 

To lighten my sins to Mecca I went, 
And thought at the mosque my guilt to repent; 
From Caaba the holy and Zemzem I came, 
And my burden of guilt was exactly the same. 

XV 

STOLEN GLANCES 

Thou meanxand sour-faced eunuch, listen well, 
And every word I breathe, unto thy master tell! 
But thou canst not the secret meaning spy 
That lingers in the sweeter language of the eye. 

Beha-ed-din Zohein 



XVI 
WHAT COMES OF QUARRELING 

About the cow, with fierce and angry voice they 

quarreled all the day, 
And then the greedy kadhy took the well-fed 

creature for his pay. 



240 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

XVII 

MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS 

Avoid the thing that doth concern thee not, 
And let all idle gossip be forgot. 

XVIII 

FERTILE OF RESOURCES 

A FOOT of water in the tank, 
Yet in he plunged and down he sank ; 
The water came not to his knees, 
And yet he swam about with ease. 

XIX 

THE RIGHT ROAD 

Follow Moses and Amram, and press on in this 
road 
Until you hear the solemn words, ** I am 
Deity!" 
So long as the Mount of Being remains before 
you, 
The answer to " Show me " is " Thou shalt not 
behold Me." 

Mahomet in the Gulshan-i-Raz 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 241 

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE HEBREW 

I 
" GLITTERING CROWNS DECEIVE " 

The soldiers fight and bravely die, 
Their blood the crimson fields receive : 

" The kings are heroes ! " lo, the people cry ; 
Thus glittering crowns deceive. 

II 

SECRECY 

Thy friend hath still another friend, 

And he a friend as well; 
Be silent, lest to all the world 

Their lips the secret tell. 

Ill 

THE BIBLE 

Turn the Bible o'er and o'er, 
Read its pages more and more; 
All that mind can e'er receive. 
Or the loving heart believe, 
In that volume can be found. 
Turn the Bible round and round — 
O my soul, thou hungry bird. 
Taste the honey of the Word. 



242 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 

IV 

THE WISDOM OF A CHILDLIKE SPIRIT 

The world is saved from friend and foe 
By what the little children know. 

V 

THE THREE FRIENDS 

Man in his life hath three good friends, — 

Wealth, family, and noble deeds ; 
These serve him in his days of joy, 

And minister unto his needs. 

But when the lonely hour of death 

With sad and silent foot draws nigh. 

Wealth and family take them wings. 
And from the dying pillow fly. 

But noble deeds in love respond: 
" Ere came to thee the fatal day. 

We went before, O gentle friend. 

And smoothed the steep and thorny way." 

VI 
MODEST WORTH REWARDED 

Who runneth after greatness, from him greatness 

flies ; 
But whoso shunneth greatness, to him greatness 

hies. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 243 



A ROYAL EPITAPH 

I HAVE departed hence, 

And am no more forever. 

Like the day I vanished 

Hath my spirit faded from the world, 

And my voice 

Ceased from sounding in the ears of men. 

Hush ! Here sleeps a king, 

Encoffined in the tomb 

He builded with his wealth; 

Bequeathing unto whosoe'er 

Shall move his bones, 

Or dig for treasure in his mold'ring dust, 

A curse that shall continue, 

And consume his race : 

To him and his be there no rest for ever- 
more. 

Nor fruit of any toil; 

Let him, when dead, lie rotting on the 
field. 

His bones the prey of jackals. 

I have departed hence. 

To dwell no more with men ; 

And, like the day I vanished, 

Hath my spirit faded into nothingness: 

Farewell. 

From the Phcenician of Esmukazab, 
Kino of the Two Sidons 



244 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



THE BOOK OF PYMANDER 

A BOOK have I written — 

Not mine, but the book of the world ; 

For her sake 

And the sake of her God 

Have I written these things. 

The Soul once lifted from sin, 

Knowing goodness. 

Shall fall nevermore ; 

She shall triumph in truth, 

Having walked through the world, 

And, dying, shall live. 



CONFESSION 

Before I knew you I was glad, 

But since I've seen you I am sad ; 

And this confession, fond and true, 

Is made alone, dear girl, for you. 

To other eyes I still am gay, 

I laugh though you are far away, 

I bear the burden of the day. 

Nor sighs nor tears my grief betray; 

Oh pity my distress, and give 

One word of hope to bid me live. 

From the Japanese 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 245 



A HAPPY LOT 

How pleasant is my earthly lot, — 

To watch the fishers in the bay, 
And see them haul their nets ashore, 

Or speed their white sails far away. 
Here by the sounding sea I'd dwell, 

The friend of nature and of man. 
Enjoy the world from morn till eve. 

And do the little good I can. 

From the Japanese 



THE MISSION OF SORROW 

Th' unpolished pearl can never shine — 
'Tis sorrow makes the soul divine. 

From the Japanese 



THE WORDS OF THE WISE ARE FEW 

Of all the lands where mighty forests grow, 
But few that bear the sandalwood I know; 
In every clime the wise and good I view. 
And yet, alas ! their golden words are few. 

Saskya Pandita 



246 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



INSCRIPTION ON THE BATHING TUB 
OF K'ANG 

Wash, if thou canst, each day, 
The guilt of sin away. 



CHINESE COUPLET 

Who would pluck the fragrant rose I warn 
He shall feel the sharp and piercing thorn. 



CHINESE COUPLET 

" I HAVE seen Cashmere," cried the ambitious 

frog. 
Perched in slime and mud upon a slipp'ry log. 



A PRAYER FOR THE KING 

Long years and fadeless days, 

A keen, swift sword, 
And glory among kings 

Unto my Lord. 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 247 



Grant, O ye mighty gods, 

To him who gave 
Such gifts to you, this prayer 

Of his true slave. 



His empire, let it spread 
O'er all the earth, 

His sorrow be dissolved 
In wine and mirth. 



Let kings before him kneel 

And own his sway. 
Their scepters and their crowns 

Bestrew his way. 



And when his life shall end 
In death's dark night, 

Grant him the happy fields 
Of fadeless light. 



Assyrian gods attend 

The hero's flight 
Up to the Silver Mount's 

Celestial height. 

Assyrian Sacred Poetry 



248 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



CREATION AND TRIAL OF MAN 

In beginning of time when earth was young, 
Rapt seers have said and sacred poets sung, 
The God of heaven created black and white : 
He laid a calabash and a sealed leaf 
(Long is the fate, the trial all too brief) 
Upon the glistening sod at noon of night; 
And in the dawning and the glistening dew 
Men made their choice beneath an arch of blue. 
The dusky race the calabash upraised. 
And, unsuspecting, in the hollow gazed — 
Alas, how soon their pride was leveled low ! 
Metals the use of which they did not know, — 
Silver, and gold, and diamonds, — all were there, 
Not to enrich but to increase their care. 
Unto the white the leaf was left, — a prize 
That made them sun-faced children of the 

skies. 
Knowledge was theirs that chained the world their 

slave. 
And every question solved in earth and wave. 
God loved and gave the white men strength of 

mind, 
But left the darker races dull and blind. 
The tan-faced children to the desert fled. 
And evermore a roving life they led. 

From the Ashawti 



POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 249 



A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR HER 
DROWNED SON 

Alas, alas, thine empty seat, my son ! 

Vainly thy garments I did toil to dry. 
Thy mother's joy is clouded o'er with grief, 

And darkness veils the lonely sky. 

How oft I watched with straining eye for thee, 
And saw thee rowing swiftly o'er the wave; 

Wiser than all thy race, my noble boy. 
And than the bravest still more brave. 

Never with empty hand didst thou return. 

But now I mourn thine empty hand and place ; 

Alas, how useless seems the world to me 
Since I no more behold thy face ! 

Friends, could I weep as ye are weeping now, 
It were some comfort to my breaking heart. 

The fever burns my brow ; my sight is dim ; 
The anguish is too deep for tears to start. 

Death, death alone can now be good to me ; 

Life is a loathsome thing, and I would go 
Far, far away from Greenland's rocky coast, 

Its icy waves and fields of sparkling snow. 



250 POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS 



Take me, sweet Death, to thy divine embrace; 

Seal with deep slumber every aching sense. 
The world is empty and the stars are dust; 

They hold no love for me. I would go hence. 

From the Gbeexlanoic 



THE HUMAN SACRIFICE 

Bind the victim hand and foot, 

Sacred to the mighty god; 
Let his flesh be torn apart. 

And his blood besoak the sod. 

Cries the sacrifice with tears, 

" I have wife and children sweet ! " 

Beat the drum and swing the spear; 
Mighty Kongo's name repeat. 

Now the priest the victim takes — 
See the bleeding limbs divide ! 

Warriors, bathe your gleaming spears 
In the foaming crimson tide. 

Split the heart and bear it hence ; 

Kongo hungers, haste ! away ! 
When the mighty god commands, 

Shall a mortal disobey? 

Sacrificial Hymx of the South Sea Islands 



